Allegro
by QuiaVeritatis
Summary: Yes. Same story, different screen name. Allegro is the sequel to Adagio. Please do not read this if you haven't finished Adagio. Spoilers will kill THAT story. Sorry this disappeared for a while, there was some trouble. I will put it back now.
1. Chapter 1

Allegro

Prologue/Chapter 1

Rated PG

Sequel to Adagio. Picks up a week later. Starts the ball rolling, and it won't stop for a long long time.

* * *

"You have to let me go, Chief." Dominic leaned over, trying to see the monitor.

"No." Chief Inspector Finch did not look up from the screen. "You have an appointment with a surgeon.

"No. No sir. There is no time for that. You know every hour counts. Especially in the beginning."

"Dominic." Finch put it all into the tone of his voice. The finality. The decision. The futility of further discussion.

"Chief," and Finch heard it all in Dominic's voice. The desperation. The grief. The power of a man who wishes to run, but is held back. He held tight.

"No."

"She is still on the books as "wanted". Look at your schedule."

Finch didn't need to look. He knew. His appointment book was filled to overflowing: Interviews, briefings, meetings, reports…he was booked for months. Dominic opened his own diary, pushed it right under his nose. Empty. Blank. Not a day filled in with anything.

"You thought I was dead. They thought I was dead. I was full time on the terrorist. He is dead now, inspector. Dead. I have no assignment. Let me go."

"No. You are in no shape to go. Your hand…" Finch was tired. _I am tired._

"Is fine. It is fine."

"It is not. You need to see a surgeon. Get it set properly."

"No, Chief. We need to find her."

"No. We don't. Leave her alone, Dominic. Leave her be."

"She is…she will be…he told me…"

"No."

"Fucking Hell, Chief, don't do this to me. Christ." Dominic went down.

Finch winced to see his partner on the floor. Kneeling, ruined. He turned away. "No. She doesn't want you, Dominic. She has 2.5 million pounds to her name. She has property in Soho, Bloomsbury and King's Cross. She doesn't need you. She doesn't want you. You must know that."

"He gave her to me, Chief. He gave her to me. She is mine."

"Dominic." Finch leaned down over the edge of his desk. "Dominic," he tried to sound like a father. "Dominic. He can't give her to you. He can't. You know that." He waited. Dominic made some strangling sounds. Finch waited. He waited. Longer. He rested his elbow on the side of his desk, watched him. He could only see the top of his partner's head. Watched. "Leave her be," he said again.

Dominic didn't look up. His voice was soft, "She could be lost. In trouble. Under surveillance or captured."

"No. She's fine."

"What?" Dominic came up from the floor; put his left hand on Finch's desk. "What? How can you know? How do you know? What do you know? Why didn't you tell me?"

Finch frowned. "You are ill. It is not your concern. She is gone. You need to be thinking of other things. New assignments. New cases."

"Huh. Chief. Don't do this. Tell me what you know."

"She is in Paris."

"How do you know?"

"He told me." Finch indicated his monitor with a tilt of his head. _Dominic will never accept this until he knows it all. So I will tell him. _"He sent me an email this morning. Her name is Evelyn Abernathy. She has all his money. She is in Paris. Leave her be, Dominic."

"How can he send you an email. He is dead."

"He has a trip. Obviously."

"No. It can't be."

"See for yourself."

"I have to go, Chief, send me. The case is not closed. Send me. I can be your InterPol liaison. Recall Higgins, he is getting married in February. Please, Chief. Please."

"I'll not have you hounding her, Dominic. No."

"God damn it, Chief! What do I have to do?"

"Not a damned thing. You get back to your desk. Dial the surgeon. Make an appointment. Stop thinking about her."

Dominic looked at him. Finch struggled to keep his expression impassive and professional. He never wanted to see another human being look at him the way his partner was looking at him now. He blinked slowly, to keep his eyes clear. He swallowed carefully, to keep it from looking like fear. He drew in a long breath, careful to keep it from being a sigh. Dominic stood up straight, turned his back on him and went out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Finch let the air out. _Not good. Not good at all. _He turned to the message on the monitor_. What do you want me to do, my friend? What shall I do? _


	2. Chapter 2

Allegro 2

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd, and WB

* * *

Evey rested her head against the window of the train. The Chunnel experience was over, Europe stretched out before her. It was dark outside. The only expanse she could perceive was the field of lights that merged on the horizon with the stars. It was a clear night. _Cold_. She could feel it through the window. She moved her foot again, feeling the heavy satchel on the floor between her legs. Every few minutes she moved her foot. She huddled a little deeper within her heavy coat. She moved her foot. The satchel contained her whole life now. Inside were a few changes of clothing, legal documents, some necessary toiletries, and a mask. _Oh yes. And a packet of letters_. She moved her foot. _It is still there._

She had taken Finch inside the Gallery. After.

She had made him some tea, moving slowly, filling the kettle, turning on the gas, lighting the flame, aware of the Inspector's intense discomfort. He sat silently at the table in her chair. Watching her. She had smiled sadly as she poured his tea. Then Dominic had come down the lift and entered the kitchen warily. Evey sighed, remembering. She had been angry at him, did not offer him any tea. She had glared at him until his face turned as white as his shirt. Evey shifted in her seat and pulled her coat around her tightly. _That was unjust. I am sorry for that. _But the memory persisted. Dominic had to be helped to a chair. Evey had not touched him, but watched, impassive, as Finch loosened his partner's collar and lifted his injured hand. The fall from the moving train had undone some of Evey's work. One broken bone had come away from its setting and pierced the skin. Finch had been very upset when he saw the blood. Evey had merely turned away and set the kettle down on the stove. _Bleed then. I have seen enough blood tonight_. _Enough blood for ten detective's hands. _She had looked down at her dress. The waltzing dress. Evey moved her foot, felt the satchel. _Stay awake. Think of something else_.

But she could not turn her thoughts away and was weary of the effort. The Porter came down the aisle and offered her some coffee. _I am in Europe now_. She took the steaming cup and tipped him generously. _Coffee. He hated the stuff. _Evey blew on the steam, then took a sip. _I like it though_. She moved her foot. The satchel, still there. Finch had taken Dominic away soon after, nearly dragging the younger man. Evey watched them walk out, leaving her alone. The Inspector had said nothing as he passed through the heavy door. Dominic said everything with his eyes. Evey locked the door behind them. _Finch knows where I am. No doubt I will see him in a few hours, _she had thought. She had not showered. Nor bathed. She sat on the sofa, knees to her chest. Just sitting. Long enough for the blood to dry, the dress stuck to her stiffly, crusty and brown. But still she did not move. _This is him. He is here with me, covering me._ A tentative finger touched the fabric over her thighs. V? Pounding at the door. A beeping alert from the breaker room. Evey had come off the sofa with a start, tripping on her stiff gown. The pounding continued. Then she heard someone call her name. _It is_ _Finch_. The clock in the hall chimed. _God. It has been twelve hours_.

Evey had gone to the door and let him in and watched him as he had looked her up and down. She stood there; hand on the knob, not making a move to let him in. They had stared at each other for a long moment before the Inspector took a step toward her, gently pushed her aside, and closed the door behind them both. Evey squeezed her eyes shut and put her palms against her lids to remove that memory. Finch had taken her to the bathroom and washed her down with a warm wet cloth, changed her clothes for her like she was a child. Wiped her face. Like V had done. Just like that. Evey grit her teeth. It was humiliating. She moved her foot, felt the sarchel_. I am here now. That moment is gone._ She wanted that dress back. _What had he done with it?_ He had dressed her in a nightgown, _where had he found my black satin nightie_? He had taken her to her bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed. He had sat next her to her. She remembered how he had looked at her. He was so sorry. He was trying. She remembered that feeling she had then, the relief of letting someone else be in charge. Responsible. _Just let me sleep. I want to sleep._ She remembered with shame how she had finally allowed the tears to flow. Finch had held her. Stiffly. He had coughed, uncomfortable, as she clutched at him, sobbing. After a few minutes one of his hands began to timidly pat her on her back.

Evey finished her coffee, set the empty cup on the empty seat beside her. _He is a good man_. Smelled of aftershave and Scotch. Beneath the softness of his middle-aged skin she had felt the hardness of his muscles, the comfort of his presence. _He is strong. He knows the truth. It is his job to uncover the truth._ She moved her foot. Still there. _I_ _have all I need in here. Some clothes, his papers. A purchasing card, a mask, and …_ Evey bent forward to look at the satchel. The letters were in a bundle in the side pocket protected by only a zipper. The bulge in the satchel beckoned to her. She almost reached for it. Almost. _No. I will not touch them until I am safe. Miles must separate me from London. Miles must separate me from him. Miles. More miles than this. _She looked at the diamond on her left hand. She looked out the window.

* * *

Finch pushed open the door to the ward, glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand. Room 210. His sharp eyes rested briefly on each of the beds lined up against the walls, white sheets, white walls, white floors. Dominic. There. Last bed on the left. Finch carefully avoided looking at the occupants of the other beds as he made his way to the end of the room. He stood at the foot of his partner's bed, rested his hands on the metal rail. 

"Dominic." The younger man looked like hell. The surgery on his hand and arm had gone well. The attending physician had cleared his partner for release today. Yet twin IV's hung over the bed and tubes snaked over the blanket. Finch rubbed his face. Conflicting information. That did not bode well. A patient ready to be released does not need tubing. "Dominic."

Dominic opened his eyes. Finch winced to see the dark half-moons under each one. "Chief."

"I've come to sign you out. You don't look ready to go."

"No. Doctor told me something is amiss. Infection maybe, some kind of bug."

Finch frowned. "It's not in your records."

"Just happened today."

Finch moved to the chair beside the bed. "How d'you feel?"

Dominic just turned his head on the pillow to face him, permitting the pallor and the dark circles and the tubing to speak for him. Finch sighed. "I need you up and about."

"No you don't. You told me you didn't need me for anything. You made the appointment with the surgeon. You drove me here. You signed the papers. You called my Mum. Jesus, Eric. You called me Mum. You don't need me." Dominic turned his head on the pillow, looked up at the ceiling. "And you took my day book."

Finch shook his head slowly at the bitterness he heard in Dominic's voice. "Something's happened," he said.

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You have two meetings scheduled on the same day?"

The sarcasm pierced Finch through the heart. He set his mouth firmly before replying, "It's about _her_."

Dominic sat up, turned dark eyes on his supervisor. The tubes rattled the metal stands. He held tightly to the rail of the bed with his good hand. "What about her? Oh, God, is she…? Oh no, did she…?" Finch leaned forward and touched his arm.

"Dom. Be still. I don't know where she is. No one knows where she is. But someone wants to. I need you in the field as soon as you are able. I've recalled Higgins."

"Jesus, Chief." Dominic threw back his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Finch stopped him before he could set his feet on the floor. "I thought you said you had an infection?" Finch glanced meaningfully at the I.V.

"Is it in my record?"

Finch looked down at the release papers in his hand. "No."

"Then I don't. My clothes are in the bag under your chair. Help me get dressed. Get me out of here before the nurse comes back."

Finch explained in the car. "I had a meeting this morning. Fingermen found the door to the Shadow Gallery. They tracked his blood to the door. They couldn't get past the security he had there, though they disabled the screeching claxon he wired overhead." Finch stopped at a traffic light, looked at his partner. "They tapped into his cameras. They've looked inside, Dom. They've seen the art. They have seen the sculpture.

"They want to get in." The light changed and Finch drove on. "He set up a self destruct on the Gallery. They are afraid to break in. There's a bomb wired to the entry."

"That's absurd. He would never do that. He would never destroy the smallest piece of art in there, no matter what."

"There's a DaVinci in there, Dominic. Would you risk it?" Finch waited through the silence, knowing the answer.

"What does this have to do with Evey?"

"Miss Hammond has the codes, does she not?"

"Of course."

"They want to get in. No telling how many millions of pounds is in that Gallery. That is a powerful incentive, Dominic. The Head has put out bounty. A percentage of the value of the art."

"Oh my God."

"That's not the worst of it…"

"Shit."

"The bounty is on the codes. Not Miss Hammond. Anyone who catches her is free to use whatever means necessary to get her to talk." Finch hazarded a glance at his partner as the traffic lightened up. As he expected, Dominic was staring intently at nothing, deep in thought.

"You say you know she went to Paris," Dominic asked.

"I can guess."

"Does anyone else know?" Dominic leaned back into the seat, repositioned his injured hand across his chest.

"I can't possibly say. I have told no one, I have deleted my email from…him. I would go, but…"

"You can't."

"No. I can't."

"You recalled Higgins, you say?"

"Yes. This morning. He is ecstatic. He awaits you in Paris for your debriefing. I can have you on the train tonight."

"You had no trouble getting me approved for transfer?"

"There is no one to approve, Dominic. The power vacuum has made some aspects of my job easier just as it has made some aspects impossible. Right now I do not have a supervisor. My decisions go unchallenged. That may change after awhile, but for now you have a new badge, a new assignment and a new expense account." Finch pulled the car up in front of Dominic's flat. He reached under the seat and pulled out a day book. He handed it to Dominic. "Pack. I will pick you up in three hours…" He leaned over the seat before Dominic could close his door, "… and I will call your Mum."


	3. Chapter 3

Allegro 3

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd, WB and others.

* * *

Dominic pretended to be deeply absorbed in the text that was slowly scrolling across his monitor. His new partner sat across from him at the double desk they shared at the British Embassy in Paris. Dominic had a pencil in his left hand poised over a note pad. Learning to write left-handed was a trial in itself, having to listen to Tandy prattle on about the political churning at home was almost too much to bear. He wrote down a phone number, glanced down to see if it was legible. It was not. He sighed, "Tandy."

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you, sir?

"Tandy. Do a search for hotels in Paris, say, limiting your search to three stars and above."

"Sure, Mr. Stone. I'm on it."

"Just print out the list and start calling them. You are trying to locate Mrs. Abernathy."

"Mrs. Abernathy? Is that what the terrorist's tart is calling herself? Cor. I heard the bastard was shagging her. My mates at the Yard said so. You heard that?"

Dominic closed his eyes, counted ten. "No. I didn't hear that." _But I know it is true_.

"Yeah. My mates there told me he was seven feet tall and smelled of brimstone. He was in Jordon Tower, remember that? Fred told him all about it. Fred said that if he hadn't had that bomb he would have taken the terrorist down. I dunno, though, seven feet of terrorist is a bit much for Fred to handle. Fred hasn't seen the inside of a gym in some time. You know? You know Fred from the Tower? Mr. Stone?"

"Yes. I debriefed Fred."

"Oh. So you know everything that happened there."

"Yes."

"I wish I had been there. I would have like to have seen him for real. Brimstone. That's a good one. Seven feet tall. Yeah. And that black costume. Shit. I wonder if he took the mask off to shag her. Nah. He probably just scooped her up and laid her flat and then…"

"Tandy."

"Sir?"

"Your search?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, sir."

Dominic felt sick. He pulled out a drawer, looked at the pills in their orange canisters. _There's the migraine pill. The pain pills. The antibiotics_. He had trouble opening their caps with one hand. The pain made it hard to think. When he took the Oxycodone the pain went away, but so did his ability to concentrate. He closed the drawer and picked up the pencil again. Tandy would not shut up. _I need to take a pain pill just for him_.

"Yeah. Before I got assigned to you I was working for Higgins. He's a good man. Getting married soon. Fine girl. He had a photo of her on his desk. You got a woman, Mr. Stone?" Dominic saw Tandy look around the monitors for a photograph on his desk.

"No." It was hard to say the word. He saw Eve's face every time Tandy said "woman".

"Too bad. Nice French girls here. You'll get one. I'm shagging the coffee girl from the Embassy cafeteria. She's a brunette. Terrorist's woman is a blonde. She's pretty. Guys in forensics said she was a real blonde, too."

"What?" Dominic sat up straight. "What guys in forensics?"

"The DNA report on the Hammond girl. They have hairs from her hair brush. She's a real blonde, that's what I said. They have nothing on the terrorist, though. Nothing yet.

Mates at the Yard said he was a ghost. Nothing. I don't know. Kinda creepy thinking about a ghost shagging a blonde girl." Tandy snickered. "I wonder how she put up with the odor of brimstone. Do you think he was real?"

Dominic pressed fingers to his eyes. _I need to stop up my ears as well._ He couldn't stop the image of V poised over Eve's naked body from entering his mind. He pressed harder, but instead of fading he could hear her voice, see her slender white legs wrapped up and around the black silk of his back. _She is pregnant. That means he_…Dominic tried not to see, but Tandy had poisoned his mind. Dominic heard the sounds of a man making love to a woman, saw her face and heard her small cries of pleasure. His stomach tightened further. He saw V arched over her smaller body, entering her, taking his pleasure from her…V had trusted her. V had trusted her while he was at his most vulnerable. That moment when every man, no matter a king or a beggar, is laid open to the world, that moment when the world collapses to a single point in space and time. That point when everything fades but the intensity of that one event, the one instant when a man loses control as his body takes over from his mind. There is no stopping that moment, that point of no return as a man spills over and into a woman. The terrorist trusted her enough to allow himself that moment of defenselessness. He let his guard down for her when he filled her with the essence of himself. Dominic clenched his jaw, thinking of it. V was real. He was no ghost.

"Cor Blimey, Mr. Stone. You've broken your pencil!"

XXX

Chief Inspector Finch tapped his keyboard, glanced at his monitor. The Lab had put a rush on his case. I _will have to call in a few favors for this one. I need this moved to the top of the list._ He sighed, remembering. He had found the Hammond girl in the underground gallery. She had let him in. She had smelled like a crime scene. She _was_ a crime scene. It wasn't right that she had not yet cried. _Twelve hours. She should be crying by now. All women cry. Well, except Delia._ Miss Hammond had just looked at him. Finch winced with the memory. Those big eyes. Shock. She was in shock. He knew the look. He had seen it too many times in the eyes of others. He had taken her to the bathroom and washed her down and put her nightgown over her head. She had stared at him the whole while, never taking her eyes from his. She seemed to be asking him to make it stop. He shook his head. _It won't stop, Miss Hammond. Ever_.

After she had fallen asleep he had gone to the hall and retrieved his attaché. He had put on some latex gloves and got to work. The dress went into an evidence bag. He took the Luminol to the bathroom and sprayed the tile walls and floor, then he had killed the lights and flipped on his infrared torch. The whole room had lit up with a purple glow. _This room had once been a bloody mess_. He frowned. Purple numbers were written on one of the wall tiles. He had bent closer. _70/0 80/30 90/40 90/50 100/50 110/60_ They looked like they might have been blood pressure readings if they hadn't been so low. He had moved his light to the cabinet. It was a huge cabinet, a nasty dent in one side, as if it had fallen over at one time. Inside were medical supplies of all kinds. Mostly first aid and other kinds of trauma treatment supplies. Finch pushed them around inside, looking. Some things for burns. Lots of painkillers.

The tub was clear. No blood there. He had swabbed a few places around the tile and tucked away his sample. _I will find out who he was_. _But now it is time to meet him. _Finch started at the lowest level, looking in each room with his camera. _Here are his supplies_. Crates and crates of everything imaginable. Here, Champagne. Caviar. Truffles. There, soap, lotions. Rare emollients. Cocoa butter. Priceless. Like gold. He opened a crate. Masks. More of them. Cloaks. Wigs. Hardware. Tools. Wire.

The cell block was curious, but there was nothing in there. Four of the cells were dummies. Only the one where he found Dominic was real. That one was exactly as he had left it two days before. He took some photos. As the flash went off he noticed something he had not seen before. Finch lowered the camera, went down on one knee. Dominic's Mum. His school football photo. The two small framed photographs lay under the camp bed, which was now tilted down toward the end. The leg had snapped completely off. _How did these photos?_…he frowned. _That night. He picked up Dom's pictures?_ After that night Finch had gone over every inch of Dominic's flat. He knew someone had taken clothing and the medicines. He didn't know about the photos. _Why?_

Finch picked them up and put them in his attaché. _I will send them to him, post_.

He continued through the terrorist's home with his camera.

_This room_. Looks like an office. Finch went immediately to the desk. He lifted the roll top with a latexed finger. He recognized copies of things from his briefcase; he glanced at the wall where there was a low table. Photocopier. Business machines. A desk drawer held Exacto blades. Things with which to make forgeries, ID cards. A bar code printer. He took photos. Swabbed. He did not touch the papers. _Miss Hammond's papers now_. _This is not an official investigation. It is personal_.

Other rooms held more supplies. He found the laboratory. He backed up and lowered the camera, thinking. _No. No one goes in there_. He had a feeling that even Miss Hammond was an unwelcome guest in this room. He remained in the doorway a moment, thinking. _I don't want to make a mistake._ He could see packages of gelignite from where he stood. He raised his arm and slowly allowed the camera to pan the lab from the doorway. He moved it carefully, deliberately, thinking about how he would go over every frame back in his office. But he did not enter there. The lab felt strange to him. _Haunted_. Finch lowered the camera and took a step backwards out of the doorway. _Yes. That is how it feels._

The next floor contained the computers and monitors. Finch checked a few cameras, recognized some that belonged to the Eye. Saw the one in his own townhouse, the top of the screen said "Finch, E.". Scrambled. _Good._ The next level was where the art began. He set the camera on pan and began to walk.

XXX

Eve stepped out of the cab onto the sidewalk in Geneva. The city was beautiful, but she didn't see it. The snow was crisp and white and glistened with crystal reflections from the sun. But she didn't blink. Before her the imposing Swiss Bank loomed five stories above her. Each of the many tall windows held a hopeful flower box at its sill, now empty for the winter. At the very apex of the roof flew a red flag with a white cross on it. A red cross symbolized more than a bank, or a country. She wondered absently if she would find the help she needed. Eve stepped through the main doors and entered the lobby.

She was astounded. The mere mention of her name at the reception desk brought no fewer than three men to her side at once. One was older and gray. Two were much younger, handsome in a blonde way. The two younger men were sent to bring her tea. The elder gentleman offered her his arm after introducing himself as Herr Von Bergmann. He led her to an office across the immense lobby. Eve looked up at the high ceilings and wooden panels as she passed through the room. All eyes were on her as she walked beside the banker like a bride. She felt self-conscious with every clicking step on the glossy marble floor. Finally, relief when the massive wood door closed behind her. The warm office beckoned with an overstuffed wingback chair and mahogany tables. Von Bergmann bowed her into the chair and offered to take her satchel. Eve declined politely and tucked the satchel against her leg.

"Mrs. Abernathy. We have been expecting you." His voice was deep and authoritative. Years of experience and competence were expressed in that voice. Evey felt herself relax for the first time in five days. Here was someone she could trust. He had trusted him. He had left a note telling her to come here. She tried to smile up at Herr Von Bergmann. She was aware her smile probably appeared to be a grimace. His eyes were kind. "On behalf of the Swiss Bank, I want to express our deep sadness for your loss, Mrs. Abernathy. I admired your husband very much. His passing will be felt by all whose lives were touched by his generosity and patronage."

Eve's eyes widened with surprise. "You knew him?"

"I never had the pleasure of meeting him in person, Mrs. Abernathy. I have spoken to him many times, for we share a deep love of art and music. He sent me many of the paintings you may have seen as we passed through the lobby. He was a discerning and astute art dealer. Many times he astounded me with his ability to negotiate a purchase. Pieces I never thought would ever be on the market in my lifetime."

Eve suppressed her reaction. Kept her face impassive. _What were you doing, V?_ She had to know. She asked a carefully worded question, "He was always very thorough with his research, and you were always satisfied with the provenance?"

"Absolutely. In fact, I received correspondence from the previous owners of the art praising his professionalism and his courtesy, recommending him for other transactions. With the"…the man paused, obviously searching for an appropriate word. "With the _troubles_ in Britain over the past decade there were many art patrons who had difficulties putting their art on the market. Your husband was a great facilitator. We have been associates for nearly fifteen years. He will be sorely missed."

_Yes. He will. He is_. Evey breathed a bit easier knowing that V had not sold any State Treasures to the Swiss. _How did you know he was dead? _She had not the courage to ask question, not matter how carefully she worded it. She might say something that would disturb what was obviously a meticulously orchestrated event.

Herr Bergmann continued, "He told me he would send you to us. I have all his papers, his death certificates, everything. You need not be concerned with any legal aspects of his business. I will need a few signatures from you, Mrs. Abernathy, and a thumb print. After that you will have access to his safe. We will take care of you in this trying time. He asked me personally to see to it." Herr Von Bergmann bowed just as the two other men entered with a tea tray. One of them had a silver filigreed stamp pad and a gold pen. Eve signed some papers, pressed her thumb to several more, and then looked into a scanner that photographed her eye. After she was finished, after the tea was drunk and more pleasantries exchanged, one of the younger men pressed a bouquet of brilliant red roses into her arms, saying shyly in heavily accented English, "He asked us to give these to you." The other young man lifted her satchel for her. She was escorted out to the sidewalk. There was no cab waiting for her. Instead a long black limousine idled warmly at the curb. The driver bowed and opened the door for her. In a stupor Eve allowed him to seat her in the back, roses on her lap as a blonde banker set her satchel carefully beside her. He backed away as Herr Von Bergmann stepped forward and took her hand. He bent over it and lightly touched his lips to her fingers. He placed a linen-backed business card among the roses. "Call me if you need anything at all, Mrs. Abernathy." The door closed and the limousine pulled away.

Eve blinked. In a small voice she asked the driver, "Where am I going?"

"Mr. Abernathy requested you stay at the Metropole. He booked a suite for you that overlooks the Lake. I am taking you there now."

Eve's throat tightened and she hugged the roses to her, their thorns felt…sharp. She welcomed their bite.


	4. Chapter 4

Allegro

Chapter 4

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd, and others.

* * *

Chief Inspector Finch tapped the speaker button on his phone. The buzzing stopped, replaced by the voice of the Project Leader in the Laboratory.

"Chief Inspector Finch?"

"Yes?"

"We have preliminary results from your…sample.

"Good. Do you have a name for me?"

"No, sir. No match. But there is something very strange."

Finch put down the sheaf of papers he was reading and picked up the phone. He switched off the speaker and put the mobile to his ear. "What is strange, Perry?"

"Well. There seems to be several anomalies we cannot account for. You sent us plenty of samples. There is enough here for a thousand labs, sir, so we did the test again. And a third time, to be certain there was no error with the equipment."

"And?" Finch felt a growing unease.

"First of all, we detected the antibody signature for St. Mary's, Inspector. And it was not the normal signature from someone who may have had the virus and recovered. This signature is very similar to the mutation in the recent Irish outbreak in a way we cannot explain. This signature suggests a relationship with all the mutations we have seen so far in other areas; yet this individual did not have an active case. He was a carrier."

"Secondly?" Finch prompted quickly, to get Perry to change the subject. _Rookwood in the mausoleum_. _Christ. Bloody Hell. '…one of the victims.' He was the one_. _It was him_.

Perry continued. "There seems to be actual damage to several chromosomes. We ran the sample through the genome battery, just like you suggested, sir. The sample…well…it's like nothing we have ever seen. I took the liberty of sending it to The Montgomery Labs and to Doctor Brendhall at Cambridge for further analysis. And last, you must know this blood came from a man."

Finch sighed heavily, "Yes. I know that already."

"I just wanted to be certain, as the sample you sent was from a woman's gown, sir. It was not a woman's blood."

"No."

"I will send a courier to you right away with the results. The ones we have so far."

"Perry, As of right now, this entire project is coded Red. Do you understand?"

A nervous cough came from his phone, and then, "Yes, sir. I anticipated you, sir. I sent the samples out under level ten security."

"Good. Keep me informed." Finch ended the call; his thumb pressed a new series of buttons then he again brought the mobile to his ear.

XXX

Dominic's phone beeped at him. He shifted painfully in his chair to free his left hand to pick it up. "Stone".

"Dominic."

"Yes, Chief?"

"Any progress?"

"Some. I was going to ring you later."

"What do you have?"

"We have confirmation she was on the train. The train staff was shown photographs of her and ID'd her. Security cameras confirm."

"That's excellent."

"No. It is not." Dominic had meant to discuss the situation with Finch privately, on a secure line using their agreed upon code words. This was not the right time, and it appeared that Finch was in one of his moods. Dominic could tell by his voice. There would be no evasions today.

"What do you mean?" Dominic heard that slam-against-the-wall edge to his supervisor's voice. He gripped the phone tighter, and then braced his right arm against the desk. The corresponding shaft of pain cleared his mind and tightened his voice. "We were the sixth, Chief. The staff had been questioned five separate times before we got there."

Dominic listened to the long pause, knowing what his Chief was thinking. He heard Finch's voice return, somber this time. _He knows we should be on another line_. "Did they tell you where she got off the train?"

"Yes. Here in Paris. The manifest confirms that."

"But did any of them _see_ her get off the train?"

"No. No witnesses. No camera shots." Dominic waited through another long pause. _He hears something in my voice. He knows. I think she is in Geneva. I can't tell him on this phone. He knows I'm holding something back._

"Flip on your camera."

"Chief?" _Shit. He wants to see me_.

"Flip it on. Now."

"Chief. That's not necessary. Really." _No, no, no_. _Don't send me to hospital. I am too close. I want to be on a train to Geneva tonight._

"Dammit, Stone. That is an order. Flip it now."

Dominic hesitated. The pause was painful in more ways than one. He could not refuse, yet to comply…

"Detective Sergeant, that is a direct order. Flip it now or you will be immediately recalled."

Dominic moved a finger to the camera button on his mobile. The screen fluttered with signal and a moment later the Chief Inspector's face appeared on the tiny screen. Dominic looked away.

"Stone."

Dominic winced. It was a very bad sign when Finch used his surname. He brought the phone back to his own face, opened his eyes and looked at the screen. _No hope now_. _Tandy had confirmed the ID of one of the bounty hunters_. _Nasty brute, ex-copper. Knows too much. He will find her. I can't go to hospital. I can't let him get that much of a lead on me. It won't be long before he suspects Geneva, too_.

"Fucking hell, Stone. You look like bloody fucking hell." Finch's voice came out of the mobile with the force of a thunderbolt.

Dominic tried to steady the hand that held the mobile. He knew he looked terrible. He could see it in the mirror in the morning when he tried to shave left-handed, the blood-shot eyes, the dark circles, the grey pallor. But more pointedly, he saw it in the eyes of his co-workers as he entered the Embassy every morning. The way the receptionist turned her head as he walked by her desk told him he was losing the battle with his body. Now through the tiny speaker he heard the sound of a tapping keyboard and Finch's desk phone beeping in London. Finch was on it now. He would start things happening. Dominic knew it was all over when the sound of the keyboard clicking reached his ear.

"Dominic," Now Finch's voice was lower, slower. Dominic heard the sound of deep concern in the tones. "Dominic. I contacted your surgeon. He says you missed your last two appointments. He says the infection has spread and is destroying tissues around the carpals. Didn't he tell you this?"

Dominic looked away from the phone to his right hand, in a sling cradled against his chest. "Yes."

"Did he not require that you come in immediately for, what did he call it? 'Sharp debridement of the necrotic tissue'. Did he not tell you that you could lose that hand?"

"Yes."

"Dammit, Stone." Dominic heard Finch's heavy sigh, then his supervisor's voice took on that hard edge Dominic knew only too well. "I want you to go down to the lobby right now. In six minutes there will be a car there to pick you up and take you to hospital. If you are not in that car in seven minutes I am sending Forsythe to Paris to recall you and I will press charges for interfering with a State High-Security Project. Do you understand me, Stone?"

Dominic could not meet Finch's eyes. He wanted to turn off his camera phone. He knew his excuse sounded weak. "The surgeon said I would be out for a week. We don't have a week, Chief. Some of them are probably closer to her than we are."

"Tandy…"

"Tandy is an idiot, Chief." _And I don't trust him. He won't meet my eyes with a steady gaze. He twitches when I look at him. He taps his fingers on his knee when I speak to him. He coughs when ask him a question. No. I do not want Tandy looking for her._

"Then I will come. I can be there tonight."

Shocked, Dominic looked back into his phone. His supervisor's eyes were as dark and intense as ever. Dominic asked, "Aren't you working on the forensics?" Dominic knew having Finch come to Paris would do nothing but bollocks up the investigation. Finch needed to be in London keeping the wheels turning, not looking up addresses and phoning hotels. _We both know that_. This was a subtle threat on the Inspector's part. _He's going to force me to make this be my decision. _"Stay there, Chief," Dominic sighed, defeated. He felt nauseous. _Eve. I can't save you with only one hand. I'll need both of them. And you will need both of us. But it won't be a week. One day. One._

"You will be in that car? 4 minutes now…"

Dominic stood up and made his way through the door and down the hall to the elevator, the phone pressed against his ear. "Yes, sir. I will be there."

XXX

Eve set the satchel down before the picture window that framed the view of Lake Geneva. The roses lay on the table beside her, wilting alternately from the freezing air outside and then from the warm air from the heater which blew from the grating beneath her feet. _Roses in winter. Unnatural. Cut stems, fragile in their impermanence._ She stroked a petal, picked up the banker's card and slipped it into her satchel. The pocket on the side bulged with his letters. _I cannot wait any longer. I must read at least one of them_.

She pulled the larger of the two armchairs closer to the glass, until all of her view was taken by the scene of the snowy banks of the crystal-blue lake. She sat down, unzipped the satchel without looking at it, lifted out the packet of letters and placed them in her lap. Evey looked out the window, looking miles away at the trees, the water, the villas on the shore. She looked out from her fifth floor suite at the expensive view. Anywhere but down. _Looking at the letters means acknowledging that he is dead_. The weight of the packet on her knees comforted her. Her hand covered them, warming them. She waited until the pounding in her ears had slowed to a dull hum before allowing her eyes to drift down and actually look at them. _He is dead. But here he is. In my lap, like I was in his so many times._

She untied the ribbon that bound them. There were five of them, numbered with Roman numerals in beautiful copperplate script, written with a fountain pen dipped in black ink. Number I was the largest. Different from the others in more ways than one. Number I was written on thick creamy vellum, like an old manuscript. Evey brushed her fingers lightly over the soft leather, feeling the faint nap. This one was folded three times and sealed with a large red wax circle stamped with a V. She lay the red ribbon on the arm of the chair and tucked the other four letters back into the satchel.

With a deep breath, she broke the seal and unfolded the vellum on her knees. V's elegant even handwriting covered the inside from margin to margin. Eve focused her eyes and made them obey. She trained them on the first word, "eVe". She stared at her name for a long while, gathering the courage to continue. He had written her name with a flourish. Loops and curls formed the first e, the V was drawn larger than the other letters and bolded with extra lines. It was obvious he intended the smaller e's to appear to be embracing the V within. She sniffed, wiped her eyes with her thumb and moved to the next line.

"_My darling, sweet Eve. I am dead, but you are not alone. Can you see me? Can you hear me? I know you can. This is where I am now, inviolate, never changing, and free from the vagaries of life, I am more than alive now in the permanence of your memory. Can you not see this is true? _

_Now, as I sit at my desk, the pen in my hand, the inkwell by my elbow, you sleep far above me, nestled comfortably among the sheets and blankets of our bed. I think of you there, at peace, and I envy your serenity. I left you just moments ago, sated completely, bonded with your body, melded with your mind and touched by your tranquil sighs. I wept for you, Eve, and you felt my tears with your hands. I could not bear the thought of how much pain I am soon to bring to your heart. You, who have taken away so much of my own pain, given me so much of what I had seen stripped away from me, you are soon to suffer so dearly for my actions. I should never have brought you here. I should have taken you to a different shelter, left you outside a house like the orphan you are, Eve. Anywhere but the Gallery. Anywhere but here, my home. I should have, but in my weakness I did not. I loved you the moment I saw you, Eve, and as much as I knew this day would come, part of me refused to relinquish what I had rediscovered. You rekindled the parts of me that had long ago burned down to ash. That tiny flame was so fragile, so timid, yet it burned so fiercely with my love. I could not bear to snuff it out. It was a mistake, but one I must accept as my own. I accept this. I will do what I can to make you see._

_You are in shock. I know this. Read my words and take comfort from them. It may seem, right now, that you will never feel anything again. You may be staring straight ahead, in a stupor, not seeing, not hearing, living in your memories, wondering how you can get through the next hour. I know. I have been there. In my cell long ago I remember that moment when my mind went blank and there was nothing. I remember how long it took for me to awaken and move myself from the shock and the denial. You must trust me one more time, Eve. I will get you through this._

_And here. Here is where I write what I could not say to you tonight. Here I am, safe in my office, a pen in my hand. It is quiet. You sleep. I put the nib to the soft vellum so my words will be here forever, Eve. Forever. The ink will never fade, the vellum never tear. I am putting my heart in your hands, my love. _

_Tonight, you told me I was rough. Perhaps I hurt you. I feel ashamed. I lost myself in you, Eve. I stopped thinking and allowed myself only to feel. To merge with your body, to bind myself to you. It was selfish and perhaps, desperate. That tiny flame of love had been fanned into an inferno of passion and I was lost again. I wanted to consume you, envelope you and bring you into me so far you could never escape. But to do that would be to destroy the very thing I adored. I had to leave you before I crushed you. As I drew my hands along your arms and felt the warmth and softness of your body, I remembered the empty years here, alone. The warmest blanket, the hottest bath could not thaw the frozen core of my being. But the touch of your hand burned through me, Eve. You gave me back the life I thought I had lost. When I entered your body with mine, I felt more than physical pleasure. The years of my loneliness peeled away layer after layer until, as I held you, I felt a connection to another human being more enduring than a mere marriage or an act of love. An eternal embrace, Eve. I am with you now as you read this. You cannot be taken from me. Wherever I am, know that I carry a part of you with me, just as you carry a part of me inside you. Put your hand over your womb, Eve. Put your hand there now as you hear my words. You are not alone."_

Beneath the waving script at the bottom of the page, Eve saw where he had drawn a large and elaborate V. The point of the V at the bottom was obscured with a watermark. A teardrop had smudged the lines where they joined, splattering the ink into a starburst. He had not corrected the splash. He had left it there for her to see. Eve wiped her eyes, careful not to allow one her own tears to fall on his. She ran a trembling finger over each line of the _V_, feeling the vellum, the places where the sharp nib had scratched the fine leather, touching the marks he made. She sighed, reached in the side pocket of her satchel and gently drew out Valerie's letter. She folded the vellum around the tiny fragile roll and tied the two together with the ribbon and set them aside.

She gazed through the glass at the glittering lake beneath her, her hand over her womb.


	5. Chapter 5

Allegro 5

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd and others

* * *

Finch leaned back in his chair and finished his glass of scotch. He eyed the bottle. Was it worth the effort of leaning forward, stretching out his arm and bringing the bottle closer for another? _No. I'm too tired to even pour another glass. Yet I can't sleep._ _Dominic is on his way to Geneva. Massey probably is too. Dominic won't be able to shoot. Will he? Left handed? Dominic is good with a gun. Even left-handed. I have seen his shooting trophies. But Massey is good with a knife. He'll stick Dominic in the kidneys just like that. Come up behind him on the street._ Finch saw it again in his mind. He saw the knife glint in the lamplight, saw it slide into Dominic's back. He saw his partner collapse into the snow, his red blood freezing to the pavement.

He rubbed his face. Then he rubbed it harder until he could feel it. The bristles on his cheeks reminded him that he had been sitting in this chair a long time. He lifted one leg and carefully placed his shoe on the low table in front of him. Then the other. _I could just sleep here. In this chair. I wouldn't have to get up_. Finch was so bone-weary even moving his eyes was an effort. But sleep would not come. _I will have to do something about Massey. I have warned Dominic. And now, this crisis in Ireland._

Ireland was quarantined yesterday morning; all ports closed. No boats, no planes. _Was it yesterday? Seems like a week_. He closed his eyes_. Sleep for ten minutes, then. Then you can get up_. He took a deep breath. _If I don't sleep, I won't be able to think_.

But he feared that was the point. Part of him did not want to sleep. To sleep invited the dreams, and the dreams would show him the horrors in Ireland. _They will show me Massey's big knife_. Those kinds of dreams. The kind that he had never mentioned to anyone. Not to Cynthia. Not to Delia. Especially not to Delia. She used to ask him, "How did you know that?" He could not tell her. Would not. She was a scientist. She would not understand. Now he heard the dreams calling to him. They wanted to show him. They wanted him to know. Ireland. Dominic. _I know already. Leave me alone tonight. Just let me rest._ Alcohol dulled their visions, made the dreams go away. _Maybe another drink?_ He eyed the bottle. _Yes. Worth the effort_. He leaned forward and stretched out his arm.

XXX

Dominic took out his note pad and set it on the low table, then reached into his overcoat to pull out his pencil. The maid waited patiently for him to get ready. Slowly he bent down and braced his left hand against the table. His right hand he kept hidden beneath his overcoat, tucked against his chest, where it felt protected. The bandages from his recent surgery needed to be changed. _I will have to do that later_. _Tonight when I am alone_. Writing was still a struggle. He glanced at the young woman as he flipped open the note pad's leather cover with his thumb. "Please. State your name again?" The hotel manager had promised his people would be agreeable to the investigation.

"Monique Gillette, Monsieur."

"And Miss Gillette, you say you were working this room for how long?"

"A week. Six days actually." The pretty maid spoke perfect English with a charming touch of her native French. Dominic wrote down what she said.

"And your duties were?"

"I brought Madam Abernathy her meals. I changed her linens and brought her fresh towels, Monsieur. I also did the light dusting and straightening, but not the heavy cleaning."

"Yes," Dominic wrote that down, then looked around at the suite that Eve had stayed in. It was large and airy. The prominent picture window let in an enormous amount of winter sunshine. He imagined her sitting in the big stuffed chairs, turned his head and imagined her sleeping in the huge double bed visible through another doorway, her body dwarfed by the four posts and the high mattress. He saw her curled around the white pillows in her grief. Dominic swallowed, thinking of her tears and turned back to the maid. "So she took all her meals here? She didn't go down to the restaurant? She didn't go out?"

"No, Monsieur. She took all her meals here."

"Did she eat well? Was she ill?" Dominic pretended to be deeply absorbed in writing on the pad. He could not meet her eyes, worried that they would betray his unease in a way that would expose him. _I am not exactly a disinterested investigator._

"It was very unusual, Monsieur."

Dominic looked up, concerned. "Unusual?" He kept his voice steady; aware he had just betrayed himself with his eyes.

"Oui. She did not order her meals. The Chef told me someone had ordered her meals in advance. Mr. Abernathy, I think. Different things. Wonderful things. Very expensive, very fine. Evey day I had to carry something for her. And sometimes fresh flowers, though Ralf often carried those up instead."

"And did she eat?" Dominic set his mouth. He suspected that Evey was not recovering from the Fifth. The short time he had spent with her, on the train, in the tunnels, in the kitchen of the Gallery, she had been in a daze. _She needs to eat_. Finch had told him about his efforts to comfort her. Dominic looked back at the pad. _Oh Evey._

"Yes, she ate a little. Some days. Other times…" The maid let the sentence drift off and shook her head sadly. She smoothed back a strand of hair from her face.

Dominic felt a tightening in his throat. He prompted the maid with difficulty. He could see Evey sitting in that chair. Staring. "Some days?"

"Oui. Some days she ate what I brought up. Chocolates, some Crème Brule. Beef Wellington and, pardon, some British food I am not familiar with."

"And other days?"

"Oh, it was very sad one day. One day I was happy to bring Madam some very special pate with truffles. When I lifted the silver cover, Madame burst into tears. It was very bad, Monsieur. She ran to the bedroom and slammed the door. I am sorry to report she did not eat for two days after that."

"Oh no." Dominic scratched something illegible on his pad.

"Yes. And in the mornings…" The maid shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes?" Dominic held his pencil poised over the paper.

"Monsieur. She was ill in the mornings. I brought her dry toast and some tea. She didn't always eat it."

Dominic straightened up. He tucked the pad into his inner pocket. He kept his voice firm and authoritative only with great effort. "And she checked out three days ago?"

"Oui."

"Did she by chance happen to tell you where she was going?" Dominic could only hope.

"To the south of France. I recommended a very nice place to stay near Nice. My aunt has a, what do you call it in English, Monsieur? A 'Bed and Breakfast'?"

"Ha," Dominic exhaled slowly, to control his delight, then held his breath to control his chagrin as the initial excitement was replaced by a terrible feeling of dread. When he was certain he could speak without wavering, he said, "Miss Gillette. The Manager told me that two other men had been here to question the staff about Madam Abernathy. Did you," he kept himself calm, "did you tell them about Nice?"

"No, Monsieur."

Relief. Disbelief. "Did they not ask?" Dominic was incredulous. _Can I be this lucky?_

"Oh, oui, they did ask, but I did not tell them."

"Why not?" Dominic asked, puzzled.

"Because they had hard eyes, Monsieur." The young woman looked up at him, met his eyes with a determined face. "I liked Madam. I felt sorry for her. She was very kind to me and very generous. She did not speak to me as though I were a servant. These English men who came…they had hard eyes and they spoke to me as though I were a …" she appeared to be searching for the right word, "a 'guttersnipe', as you English say. I did not tell them where she went. I did not want them to find her."

His voice was almost a whisper, "Yet you told me."

"Ah, Monsieur, you have soft eyes and you are the only one with a badge," she nodded toward his pocket where he had put his badge and the other ID he had shown her. "But more importantly, when I told you that Madam was ill in the mornings, you did not write that down in your book. When I told the other men about her being ill, they looked at me with hard eyes and wrote in their little black books. But you, Monsieur, you did not write it down. Because you already knew. I saw your eyes. You knew. You knew Madam was…delicate. You have lonely eyes, Monsieur. I think I want you to find her. You must find her."

XXX

Evey touched her toe to her satchel. _Still there_. It was under the seat in front of her, but its bulk was near enough for her toe, and that was all she needed. She was in First Class, for the first time in her life. She had no idea how nice a trip by air could be. She had only been on a plane once before, in coach, and that had been when Patricia needed her to travel with her on business one week. Now she could sink back into thick leather seats and stretch her legs out completely. Far enough to touch the satchel with a toe. _Still there._ She closed her eyes. _No more Switzerland. No more snow. No more nosey bell boys and conciliatory concierges._ The bell boy, Ralf, had made her uncomfortable; always looking at her, then popping open his mobile. But the maid had been pleasant. Evey sighed. The maid, Monique, had been the one who enabled her to stay in the whole week_. I never had to call a cab or take a tram. I could just sit. And wait._ Eve opened her eyes for a moment and stared out the window at the moon. _I was waiting, wasn't I_. The moon looked back at her. _I was thinking he would come to me_. Eve remembered unlatching the bathroom window before she went to bed. The other windows did not open. The one in the bathroom was pitifully small. _Too small for V to climb in. I really thought he would come. No. I was delusional. But the flowers, the meals, the room…_ She closed her eyes again. _I put him on that train. I did. Dominic and Finch and me. We put him on that train. I pulled the lever_.

_He is dead._

_But maybe not. Maybe he was acting. He is an actor. This would have been his greatest role. The blood. It could have been stage blood. Yes. No. Stage blood smells sweet. Like candy. His blood smelled metallic. And it was warm. Stage blood is always cold. No. It was real._

_But he could have used real blood. It would have been just like him to do a quality performance. Keep it as real as possible. But his voice. He was in such pain. I heard it. The shaking, the convulsions. No. He is dead. He is dead. But he is such a good actor. He could have been testing me, to see if I would keep my promise and put him on the train. He asked me, begged me. "I need to be on my train," he said to me. "Promise you will put me on my train," he said. I did. I passed that test. So where is my reward? Flowers? Pate? No. He needs to come see me. I need to hold him again. Food and flowers will not do._

_Maybe he jumped off the train. He could be somewhere healing. When he gets better he will come find me. Then I had better go back to the Gallery. _She opened her eyes._ No. I saw him die. I heard his last breath. I kissed his lips as he died. I held his head. I had his hand. I felt his neck; I put my ear to his heart. _

_He is dead._

_He made me sign his papers. I am his beneficiary. He knew. It wasn't a mistake. He meant to die. He told me, didn't he? He did. I wouldn't listen. Denial. I am in denial_.

The flight attendant bent over her seat. "Mrs. Abernathy? Would you like something to drink? Some wine perhaps? Cabernet?" Evey turned to her, made an effort to keep her face impassive.

"No. Thank you. I am fine now." The flight attendant gave her a professional smile and moved to the seat in front of her_. I am not fine. I am a mess._

_He knew. Why didn't he tell me? He gave me hints, but he didn't just come out and tell me. Damn you, V. You should have told me._ Evey looked out the window. _No. He couldn't have told me because I would have stopped him, and he knew it. I would have locked him in that cell on the Fourth and tossed the key. _Evey's lip trembled a little, imagining what would really have happened if she had gotten V in there and locked the door. There would have been an explosion of black silk in that cell. _That's what would have happened. He would have gone ballistic. I would have opened the door and let him out within minutes. I would not have been able to bear it. Listening to him. He would have been clawing at the walls. Shouting. Roaring. The door would not have held him. The hinges would have given way._ She sighed. _I would have let him out. And then he would have been so angry, so angry. I would have been cursed in French. Probably in Latin too. _She smiled a little sad smile, remembering. _Nothing would have stopped him. Not me. No one. Nothing._

_No wonder he went catatonic. That seemed so long ago. He knew then. He knew the day would come, the Fifth would come. He knew what he would be doing to me. That's why he lost it. _Evey felt a wave of sympathy for him. She glanced down at her satchel. _Should I read another letter? Not on a plane. The last letter did me in for almost a week. I can't cry here. When I get to France. I will read it then._

She felt a flutter inside her; she put her hand over the seatbelt. She had felt it earlier, in the hotel. For two days she lay in bed on her back, staring at the ceiling. She felt it for the first time then. Like a little butterfly beneath her bellybutton. At that moment…that magic moment…she truly did not feel alone_. I am not alone_. The little butterfly chased away her dark thoughts. She had lain there, breathless, waiting to feel it again. And she did. After the second time she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed at the phone. Room service had sent up her supper within minutes. _I must eat. Now I have to eat_. Evey shifted in her seat and pressed the button for the flight attendant.

"I would like a salad, please," she said to the young woman who came to her. "And some pate and a baguette."


	6. Chapter 6

Allegro 6

Adagio and previous chapters here:

Disclaimer: characters belong to Moore, Lloyd and others.

"Chief Inspector. Very good. You are very prompt, sir. The General will appreciate that. Please, go right in." The smiling receptionist pressed a button on her keyboard.

Finch pulled his hat from his curls and shrugged his overcoat from his shoulders. The receptionist pointed politely toward a coat rack by the elevator doors. He hung his hat and coat up and straightened his tie. _General_ Wilson. Finch seemed to remember that there was a pay grade between Major and General. _Five, actually._

The General half rose out of his chair behind his desk as Finch entered. Finch nodded before closing the door behind him.

"Please sit down, Inspector." The General indicted a comfortable leather chair in front of the desk.

"Thank you, General." Finch kept his voice even, no emphasis on Wilson's new rank.

"I owe you no explanation, Finch."

_I thought I kept my voice even_. "No sir." Finch looked around the office, took in the awards, trophies, framed photographs and other paraphernalia of a man who felt he needed to display his prowess. _ He's_ _defensive. The big desk, the large chair. But he will always start with the offensive. Be careful_. Finch remembered that after the explosions, the military took control of the streets. The rioters were arrested. The looters shot. Within three days there was order. _Order, but not normalcy_. Now the military was calling the shots. _And I am shooting._

"I called you in to discuss this business with Ireland."

"Yes."

"I have been told that you have discovered evidence of the original carrier."

_Of course, the General would have level ten clearance_. "Yes, sir."

"We need that man. We need him now. I want you to get him for me." The General picked up a pen and tapped the tip on his desk, emphasizing the word 'me'."

Finch paused, impassive. He chose his words carefully. "I cannot get you that man, General. He is dead."

"Then get me his body. The lab rats can use whatever they can find to create a cure."

_Or a new virus._ "I can't get you his body. He has been cremated." Finch tightened his mouth, anticipating Wilson's next sentence, his mind whirling with possible answers. _It has to be the truth. Anything else will devastate the victims. We need to focus on finding a cure, not chasing a dead man._

"What? Cremated? How can you know? The Lab told me you did not have an ID for him."

Finch noticed Wilson's face went alternately red then white. _Careful. Careful_. "I do not have an ID. However, I saw his immolation, as did 200,000 others."

"You mean…?" Finch watched Wilson's face contort as the realization hit him. _Easy, now._ Wilson stood up, dropped the pen. "You mean to tell me there is nothing we can do to stop this mutating virus in Ireland? Nothing?"

"I can't say. I am not a medical technician nor a virologist."

"Goddamn it, Finch. We needed the host." Wilson began pacing before the large window. "There must be more we can get."

Finch remained silent. _There is Delia's diary_, _but you do not want that document in the laboratories, do you? You don't want your 'rats' to see that._

The General stood before his window, his hands behind his back. Finch watched Wilson's shoulders. When they began to sag, he sighed. _So._ _The government doesn't have a handle on this like they said they did. That announcement was merely propaganda to control panic. Now I know. Will Ireland be lost?_ Finch tightened his hand on the arm of the chair. _How soon before a case turns up in Wales? Scotland?_

Wilson stared out his window, but Finch heard him clearly. "Inspector. I want you to find out who this man was. Where he was. Find his parents, his brothers, his sisters, and his children." Wilson turned around and leaned over his desk. "You will do nothing else. You will have all the support you need. Johnson will ring you tomorrow and go over your budget submissions. Use all the men you need, all the resources. A close relative's DNA will give them the boost they need to get ahead of these mutations. We need their blood. This assignment is a State Directive, do you understand, Finch?"

Finch met his eyes. "Yes, sir, I understand completely." And he did.

…………

Finch woke with a start. _Dominic_. He reached for his mobile and pressed the speed dial. _It doesn't matter what time it is_. It didn't ring. He was connected immediately to Dominic's voice mail. A wave of nausea washed over him. _It's happening now_.

XXX

Dominic buttoned his Mac all the way up to his chin, but left the space over his chest unbuttoned so he could tuck his right hand inside. The bandages made it impossible to wear a glove on that hand. He had to pull the other glove on with his teeth. It was snowing and the winds were brutal, but he did not want to call a cab. Too short a distance to bother with a cab, but long enough to make a walk in this weather uncomfortable. It was too late for the buses. He didn't want to talk to anyone, not even a cabbie. His hotel was nice, but certainly not the Metropole. It was a mere three blocks away. It was dark, but the sidewalks were well-salted and well-lit. He wished he had his hat; the snow drove his hair into a forelock of wind-whipped hanks that got into his eyes. He bent his head against the weather.

South of France. _It will be warm there. I hate the cold. I will leave tomorrow. Fly. It will be faster. I will start in Nice. Chances are she could have changed her mind. She could be in any resort on the Riviera. Long time. It might take a long time to find her. Oh, Evey. Why? Why did you run away? And Massey_. He stumbled, turned his ear to listen behind him. _Yes. Finch told me to look out from behind_. Dominic glanced up at the lamppost as he walked by. _He said that when the attack came, there would be a lamppost nearby. Shit. This must be it. It must be now._ Dominic stopped and turned around to look behind him. _Nothing. _No pedestrians. No place for someone hiding to jump out at him. _Who even knows I am here? Why would someone care?_ It didn't make sense. He turned back towards his hotel and started his walk again. _But Finch is never wrong._ Dominic slowed down. He listened behind him instead of looking ahead. _Why would someone trailing Evey want me dead? Unless he thought I would get to her before he could. Maybe I am closer than I think. And if he is tracking her, best to confront him. Maybe take him out right now. One less thug on her heels._ He stopped. _Oh no_. He pulled his right hand out of his coat and stared at it. For the first time since he started his walk he remembered he was crippled. The confidence he had felt melted away even in the face of the frigid wind. Apprehension replaced his certainty. Since his injury, he had not been required to do anything more challenging than writing left-handed. _Maybe shaving left-handed_. He removed his inured hand from the warmth of his Mac then slid his left hand into his coat and fingered the butt of his .38. He turned around, scanned the buildings, the alleys. He was in a dark place, between the lampposts. _Shit._ The wind whistled loudly around wrought iron gates and the awnings that hung over the sidewalk. Too loud for him to easily hear anyone who might be shadowing him. He turned forward again, walked a little faster, his gloved hand on the comforting steel of his revolver. _Perhaps Finch is wrong. Or tonight is not the night_. The wind whipped his hair into his eyes.

_One more block to go_. He turned his head to the side. He had heard something. _Keep walking. Don't let on_. A lamppost loomed ahead. _There. That will be where he will try. _ A pile of dirty snow left by the plow formed a gray base for the post. He could see the thick flakes swirling around the light. _There's a rubbish can. A drain grate. The road is clear._ He flexed the fingers of his left hand. _This hand is still good. The .38 might be useless, left handed. Hand to hand. It might come to that. He has a knife. I have practiced unarmed combat against a man with a knife. Left handed, I can do it. I can. I must. If I fail he will get Evey._ He cocked his head slightly, slowed down as he approached the lamppost and made sure he was balanced on both feet. He straightened out his right arm as a counterbalance against the swing he planned to make with his left.

It came swiftly; he heard only one crunching footfall before the intended blow. Dominic pulled on the revolver, but the barrel caught on the holster. _Too slow. I can't draw left handed quickly enough_. He released the weapon, twisted his shoulders, pivoted on his foot and came around to the side as his assailant made the attempted strike, blowing past him, obviously surprised his target had moved so fast and evaded his knife. Dominic saw the big blade glint in the lamplight. _That would have got my kidney for sur_e. Dominic spun around in the snow, swung his right arm out to give his shoulders the extra power of inertia as he brought his left hand down on the man's wrist, forcing the knife to fly out and slide along the snowy sidewalk.

Now disarmed, his assailant lowered his head and aimed his attack on Dominic's midsection. There was not enough time to dodge away or try to grab for the .38 again. Dominic went down, his enemy on top of him, reaching for his throat. Dominic felt the strong hands on his windpipe, but thought only how relieved he was that the knife was gone. His air was choked off, but not for long. He brought his knee up and twisted his back, throwing the man off and into the snow. Dominic got to his feet, his left fist ready for strike, right arm ready to block as the man righted himself and shook off the snow. It was Massey all right. Dominic recognized him immediately.

Massey foolishly wasted valuable seconds scanning the ground for his knife. Dominic launched himself at his enemy. He connected his shoulder with the other man's solar plexus, knocking him flat on his back and into the street, where both men slid on the icy pavement and came to rest in the center of the road. Dominic made sure one knee was in Massey's groin and his other across his arm, pinning him firmly. His left fist smashed Massey's nose, then his cheek. Massey twisted beneath him, Dominic felt Massey's fist in his ribs and he pulled back for another strike. That punch never connected. A heavy blow to his shoulders knocked him forward and he slid into the gutter. He rolled quickly to his feet and assumed a crouch, this time his revolver was unsteady in his left hand, ready to take on this new attacker.

He dropped the .38 into the snow. Then he raised both hands slowly over his head. His new attacker wore a uniform and had a partner with a Luger P08 9 mm aimed at his chest. His eyes then went to Massey who was kneeling, his hands behind his head, blood flowed from his nose over his mouth and dripped down to cover the buttons of his coat. Dominic pointed his left hand at him and said, "Verbrecher…Ich bin ein Polizist"

The two men lifted Massey to his feet. The one without the Luger nodded towards him and said in English, "Your badge, then."

Dominic still had both hands in the air. He nodded meaningfully at the man with the Luger before slowly using his left hand to remove his badge and passport from his pocket. The policeman with the truncheon took them from him and stepped to the lamp to examine his badge while the other spoke into his comlink. The Luger remained trained on Massey. _Good_. Dominic heard the sound of sirens in the distance. At the sound of the claxon Massey bolted. The Lugar fired. Missed. The Swiss policeman was off chasing him down the sidewalk and into an alley. Dom made a move to join the chase, but a Luger, aimed steady at his chest, replaced the truncheon in the hand of his captor.

"Halt."

He realized he was out of breath. Then he felt a chill. _I am soaked to the skin and this wind is brutal_. Then he felt a white hot flash of pain shoot up his arm. He looked to his right and saw that the bandages on his hand were bloody. He stumbled against the curb as a wave of dizziness knocked him side to side. _Too much too soon._ _But I am alive. _His next thought chilled him more than the frigid wind_. Massey is gone._

XXX

Evey unfolded the letter and smoothed the white paper against her thigh. _I am ready to read letter number two._

She had thought she would be ready as soon as she checked into her hotel. But she wasn't. She thought maybe after a stroll on the beach, but she wasn't ready then either. Even after a shopping excursion and lunch in a sidewalk café with a copy of a book she bought…"Maximizing your Riviera Vacation", she was still not ready.

In a strange way, by refusing to open the letter, she was not speaking to him. It seemed rather foolish to her now, looking at his fine handwriting, sitting up in the soft bed with thick comforting pillows behind her. Rather foolish indeed, that she could somehow hurt his feelings by ignoring him. _He is dead. I am still not ready_.

She turned her eyes away, looked at her suite. It was beautiful, but sterile and empty. Years ago she had honestly believed that being warm, safe, dry, and well-fed meant happiness. In those years she might be one or the other, but never all four at once_. Here I am. All four at once. And I am as miserable as I have ever been when I was cold, wet, hungry and afraid. _

She dropped her eyes down to the script. _Am I ready? Maybe just the first line_.

"_My dear Eve,"_

_Good start, a good beginning. What else?_

"_I am dead_."

_Bastard._

"_And you are probably waiting for me to come back. I will not, Eve. This time I can't." _

That was the first line. _I do not have to read anymore until tomorrow_. But she heard his voice in her head as her eyes moved across the spidery script. As much as she did not want to hear his words, she desperately wanted to listen to his voice. So she lifted the letter, propped it up on her thighs. _Oh, a couple more lines. That's all_.

"_I tried to tell you tonight that I must prepare you for the Fifth. You interrupted me. You started telling me about Paris. Eve, you have to listen to me now. It occurred to me that you deliberately cut me off. You do not want to hear what I have to say. Yet you must. If you do not, you will be reading this letter alone, somewhere, cursing me. I know it."_

Evey felt herself begin to smile, then stopped her lips from curving. _He isn't always right. No one is. It is not fair. No one should be that perceptive. I will read on. He will probably make a mistake, assume something, tell me how I feel and be totally wrong._

"_So I am writing this now, in the morning, before you wake up and come looking for your breakfast. You refuse to listen to me in person; therefore you must read my letters when I am dead, Eve. A wise man once said, 'Death cancels everything but truth.' I will lay the truth out for you, my love, and now you must listen."_

Yes, go on. _Show me how your death has made things better. Show me how it was so inevitable. Tell me you cared not for me_, _my feelings, my plans. I made plans too_. Evey wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. _We were going to go to Paris_.

"_I told you about Larkhill. I told you about the fire. I told you almost everything. In your innocence you said that none of that mattered anymore. It was all in the past. You are wrong. It matters, Eve. You have not the power to erase those hurts. Your love cannot undo what has been done._

"_They took my body from me, Eve, and they created a weapon. If they find me they can do it again. When I am finished, I have to destroy the weapon. As long as I breathe, I am a threat to thousands, if not millions, of innocents. There is only one way to be sure. One way to be certain. It was my solution a decade before I met you. It is my solution now. V."_

Evey sighed. She reached for the tissues beside her bed. _He says he will tell me the truth._ She remembered holding him as he died, how in the midst of his suffering, he made her listen. _He told me then. He needed to tell me. I heard him then. After it was too late._ She reached back in her memory for a place, a time where she might have given him another solution. _A different solution. Stay with me. Live with me. Kiss me forever. We didn't have to go to Paris. We could have gone to Katmandu. They would never find you there._ She blew her nose. _You didn't have to die. _

Evey folded up the letter and set in next to the lamp. _But_ _he would not have listened to me_.

"Death cancels everything but truth… William Hazlitt


	7. Chapter 7

Allegro 7

Adagio and previous chapters here:

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd and others.

Dominic unlocked the door and went in. He flipped on the lights, locked the door behind him. _I am_ _so weary_. The hours at the Swiss police station hadn't helped. His hand throbbed all the way through the questioning. The papers he had to sign, left-handed of course caused him pain. His right hand was sore from the fight. He looked down at his left hand. _It is_ _still shaking._ It was the pain. _I couldn't very well toss a couple tablets in my mouth in front of the police, now, could I? And uniforms tailed me through the station every moment. These are sensitive times, and British citizens are suspect. St. Mary's has been in the news lately._ He saw the way the Swiss officers had looked at him. Afraid. He shook his head. He reached into the pocket of his Mac and took out the canister, then used his teeth to open it. _Two. I need two, I think. _ He glanced down at his bloody bandages. _They wanted to take me to hospital…but no._ The hours spent dealing with the hospital bureaucracy would have been counter productive. _I need to sleep, then be gone_.

_But first, deal with this_. He shrugged half of himself out of the Mac, then, gritting his teeth carefully pulled his right hand through the sleeve. _Times like this it would be nice to have help._ He lay the Mac across a chair. _Warmth, lights on when I get home. Warm food. No take away, no hastily-made sandwich and a beer. And a smile. That warms me more than the food_. _Someone who cares._

He sat at the little hotel table where he kept his medical supplies, lifted his right arm slowly and set it down on the polished surface. _But no help for me tonight. I have no one, after Laura left me, no one. But it's not just me._ _Police work is hard on relationships._ He thought about Finch's women. _Cynthia. The Inspector had said she was sweet when he married her, but police work ruined her disposition. And his son Paul. He was delightful. Bright, cheerful, always curious, always wanted to know what was developing in each case we worked. I used to go over for supper many times. Many times. Paul and I would wrestle on the living room floor. _ Dominic paused, remembering. _One time_ _I taught him some jujitsu in the front room. We broke the sofa table that day. I wasn't invited to supper for a month after that._ Dom set his jaw and picked up the medical shears. _After the accident, we didn't talk about it much. The Inspector had become quiet then. Switched from pints to scotch. It is hard to go home to an empty house. I know. _Dominic slid the shears under his bandage and slowly cut the gauze in a straight line along the back of his hand. _ Paul would have been in University now._ Slowly, slowly, he snipped, stopping here and there where the dried blood cemented the gauze to his skin. He cut through the crusty parts, knew he would have to soak the gauze in something. _What? Peroxide? Probably. _Dominic leaned forward to lift the brown bottle out of the kit_. I had the Inspector over to my place after the accident. Laura tried to help. Not what Eric needed; Laura was too flighty. I didn't know what to say. What can you say when a man's entire family is killed? Nothing. After Laura left me, the Inspector and I just sat in dark pubs, staring at the walls._

_No. It is hard to please a woman, keep her happy. Police work means long hours, travel._ _And I know I have developed an inability to carry on a polite conversation. My mind will always drift back to the case. And, now, after fifteen years, what's on the telly, who's shagging who, and what is the "in color" of the new season just do not seem important. Not when there are people dying, stealing, plotting. I have become a terrible companion for any woman_.

He peeled back the bloody bandages and dropped them into the rubbish can beside his leg. The stitches had come away. _I figured as much_. The surgeon had insisted on old-fashioned stitches when Dominic had told him he wouldn't be sticking around for follow up visits. The surgeon had said they would be more durable. Dominic snorted. _Durable._ He poured more peroxide over his hand. _And then Delia_. Finch had brightened up during those few weeks. But that relationship would inevitably fail. Dominic knew it from the start. The first night they had gone out together to the pub. _I had brought Laura._ Delia did not like her. The two women sat glaring at each other the whole night. _There were no more double dates after that, and Finch came into the office one day a few weeks later, hung up and his coat and just looked at me. I knew. And then Laura left me. I went home to a cold dark flat. _He grimaced as the peroxide foamed over his hand. _Again._

He sopped up the pink peroxide that spilled over his thumb and onto the table with a towel. He reached for a package of gauze and carefully dabbed the long surgical slice that ran across the back of his hand. _I will have to use tweezers to pick out the bits of ruined stitches. _He opened the sterile package and lifted out a pair of tweezers_. Damn_. _I_ _could really use some help. The pain medicine has kicked in_. The warm glow from the twin tablets dulled more than the stabbing pain in his hand. He blinked as he pulled a long black filament from his skin. _Pay attention. _The tweezers blurred._ I could use some help_. He fumbled with the gauze, dabbed at the blossoming pearls of blood that welled up from the wound._ Evey. She would know what to do_. _She is not like the other women. _He paused, stared at the wall, trying to focus his eyes. _No. She is not like any others at all_. He remembered her kind smile, her soft touch on his body when she changed his bandages. _She was so careful with me, like I was fragile_. _She spoke to me with confidence about art and music and books. Never once about fashion or the telly. Never. Where are you Eve? _His fingers dropped the tweezers and they clattered off the edge of the table onto the floor. _Painkillers aren't helping at all_. He closed his eyes. _Not with this kind of pain._

XXX

The Chief Inspector punched his speed dial again. This time he heard it ring.

"Stone."

"Dominic." Finch sat down in his chair and reached for his glass.

"Inspector."

"Am I to assume I will be receiving a report from the Swiss police?"

"Yes, sir. Probably tomorrow."

"I'm sending you something. Don't leave until you get it."

"Sir? I was planning on leaving tomorrow…I mean later today."

Finch rolled his wrist to see his watch without spilling his drink. _Yes it is a new day._ "You can wait a day. I sent it express."

"A day…"

Finch heard the desolation in his voice. "You need to rest. I insist. And you will need what is in this package. How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok."

_He's lying. _"I called your Mum today." _This means the next bits are in code._

"How is she?" _He understands._

"She says your auntie is doing worse." _I have bad news._

"Is she in hospital?

"Yes. I am afraid she is very ill." _It is serious._

"I am sorry to hear that. What shall I do for her?"

"Do not bring back any souvenirs." _Do not bring Miss Hammond back._

"Not even a small one?"

_He is talking about the baby_. "No. You remember her poodle?"

"Yes."

"She says the dog will find it and swallow it if it is too small." _Her baby is in danger here._

"I don't remember the dog being so stupid."

_He doesn't understand_. "He's gone off his head with her being in the hospital." _Things are not going well. _

"I'm worried about her."

_Easy enough to understand that._ "Trust me. Do not bring her any souvenirs. Send her flowers instead."

"Of course, Inspector."

"Your Mum sends her love." _Code is over. _"How is your hand?"

"Fine."

_He's lying to me again_. "Dominic," Finch made his voice sound ominous.

"Yes sir. It was injured, but I have fixed it up. Tape, gauze. It will be fine. A few days, a week…I am taking the antibiotics. There is no more infection."

Finch listened carefully. _This is the truth. Very well, then. But something is wrong_. _Is it about Massey? _"How did it go down? Should I wait for the report, or…"

"My uncle called me yesterday."

"Did he now?"_ Code again._

"He told me that you were right about his lumbago."

"Excellent." _I am relieved. _

"He warned that it might come back at any moment, though. Doctors say it is an unusual case. Might turn up again."

"I am sorry to hear that." _So Massey is on the loose. Hunting both Miss Hammond and Dominic._

"That is why he wants to take preventative medicines." Dominic stressed the word 'preventative'.

_Clever boy. You might be able to prevent him from finding her, but not if you are ill. No. You have to rest up. One day. _He said pointedly"Too much medicine can be counter-productive."

"But he is afraid of the pain. He says it makes him anxious."

_Oh, Dominic. _"I will send her some flowers" _Wait for my package. _

"Thank you, sir. She will appreciate it."

_He will wait_. _He doesn't like it, but he will wait._

XXX

Evey sat in the waiting room, unread magazines on her lap. The clinic had told her they would call her if the results were normal. The receptionist had called her, but instead of giving her the results of the amnio, she had been asked to come in to speak to the doctor. Evey stared at the pictures on the green wall. Some boats in a harbor. Her teeth started to hurt, and she realized she had been clenching them together the twenty minutes she had been waiting. She jumped when the nurse spoke to her.

"Mrs. Abernathy?" Evey stood up so suddenly the magazines spilled to the floor. She bent her knees to pick them up since she could no longer bend over like normal people. The nurse stopped her. "I'll get them later. Please follow me." Evey did not like the ominous sympathy she heard in the nurse's voice. She picked up her bag and followed her into the examination room; each step was harder to take.

The doctor smiled warmly and motioned for her to sit. She did, setting her bag under the chair. She sat with her knees pressed tightly together and her hands knotted over the bulge of her belly. She tried to smile back, but gave up. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Please do not be alarmed, Mrs. Abernathy. It is true that we are puzzled, but there is no indication of anything pathological. As I told you when you had your first ultrasound, there seems to be an excess of amniotic fluid. We took a large sample. It seems that your baby has an unusual genetic sequence. Several key chromosomes are either damaged or appear to be unknown."

"But he is all right?" Evey said when she felt she could breathe again.

"His heart and nervous system appear to be normal, if not slightly accelerated. His morphology…excuse me, his body is growing normally, arms, legs, fingers, toes. But because we have never seen these genetic anomalies before, I cannot tell you what their effects might be. What I want to do is have you come in every two weeks instead of every month. We will do an ultrasound every visit, and keep track of his development, and I have called in a Geneticist, Dr. Marveaux, who will be monitoring the results of all your tests."

"Yes, of course," she answered. The doctor looked uncomfortable, and Evey knew there was more. She felt her cheek twitch.

"And there's another thing, Mrs. Abernathy. The baby's blood is a different type than yours. Very different. You say you do not know Mr. Abernathy's blood type?"

"Ah. No. He never mentioned it."

"Could you get his medial records for us? It might explain a great deal."

"No. That will be impossible. What is the trouble? It is not the Rh factor?"

"No. No. We know what to do in a case like that. No. This is much different. It is a very rare type, one that is usually only seen when both parents have the same type. Since you are O+, it is unusual, if not unique, to see it inherited this way."

"I see. And this will not cause him to have any health risks?"

"Not that we know of." The doctor sat down on his examining table, looked at her with undisguised curiosity. "He has immunities to the St. Mary's virus. Did you have the virus?"

"No, but I was exposed fifteen years ago."

"Your blood does not have the kind of antibodies we expected to see. We assumed you had had the virus recently. I mean in the last twenty three weeks, while you were pregnant. Babies cannot inherit antibodies from their parents, but can receive protection from disease through their mother's immune system. If you have never had the virus, it is a mystery as to how the baby possesses them and you do not." The doctor looked at her as though he expected her to explain this. Evey stared back. The doctor frowned. "You are certain his father's medical records are unavailable?"

Evey kept a straight face. _I imagine those records are classified in some vault somewhere. You will not get the information you crave, Dr. Sevier. His "doctors" are dead. He killed them all. _She bowed her head over her hands so he would not see her lie."They were all lost or destroyed in the recent upheavals at home." _I look like I am overcome with grief. And I am_. But relief as well. _The baby is healthy. Thank goodness. _

"I see." There was a long uncomfortable silence. "Well. You are taking your vitamins?"

"Yes."

"Good. And you are suffering no unpleasant symptoms? Swelling? Pain? Cramping? Are you still feeling sick in the mornings? The nausea lasted longer for you than is normal. It's important that you are eating."

"No. The nausea is gone. I am eating. Lovely French food, beautiful food. I feel fine. A little tired, perhaps. My feet hurt."

"Get plenty of rest, sit with your feet elevated. Call me if anything else develops. And the baby is moving regularly? You feel him every day?"

"Yes. He is very active at night."

"Excellent. You call me if a day goes by and you do not feel him." Dr. Sevier stood up and offered her his hand. "One more thing, Mrs. Abernathy. It is my recommendation that this baby be delivered by Cesarean section. Indications are that the amniotic fluid will continue to increase, which creates several risk factors in itself, above and beyond the added uncertainties of the baby's genetic anomalies. It would be best to deliver him in a surgical theatre with the Pediatric surgeon standing by."

Evey was aware that her mouth was open. She closed it. _You saved that for last on purpose, didn't you?_

"Ms. Jardin will make your next appointment."


	8. Chapter 8

Chief Inspector Finch closed his office door. The situation in Ireland had gotten progressively worse. He sank into his chair, rubbed his face.

There was a heavy knock on his door and it opened before he could respond.

It was Dascombe, pale and unkempt. Finch immediately drew him further into his office and quickly closed the door. Roger Dascombe looking any less than perfectly groomed meant only one thing, bad news. Dascombe said nothing, but set a file folder on the desk. Finch sat him down in Dominic's chair and gave him a cup of water before looking down. One glance said it all. In black letters across the top, the file read, 'Eyes Only'. Dascombe was risking more than his career by bringing this to him.

Finch sat on the edge of Dom's desk, his fingertips brushed the file, then tapped the folder gently. He spoke softly, even though the audio scrambler was on. "What's this, Dascombe?"

Dascombe set the empty paper cup next to Finch's thigh. "Perry brought it to me last night. I spent all night trying to work with it, trying to get it right, thinking of how to present it. But, Finch. I can't." Dascombe looked up at him, plainly stricken. "Please. You look at it. Tell me what to do." His voice was strained. Finch heard more than fear.

Finch looked at the file on his desk, then lifted the edge with his finger like it was contaminated. The cover opened, inside were pages, photocopies of reports. He looked at Dascombe and tried to think of what to say.

Dascombe frowned. "You don't look surprised at all. You knew?"

"I was told some months ago." Finch flipped the report cover closed. "I have not said anything to anyone. Dominic knows."

"Anyone else?" Dascombe picked up the paper cup, tapped it on the desk, and looked inside. "You have anything stronger than this?"

"Not in the office. Pub's open for brunch. But I don't want to walk you past the receptionist. It will start rumors. You've been up all night, haven't you…you look like shit. We'll have to go out the back way."

"I need to get out of here." Dascombe tossed the paper cup into the rubbish bin and stood.

Finch nodded. "I'll get my coat."

In the pub the two men bent their heads over the file. Miss Hammond had gone to doctor in Marseilles. Dascombe pushed a sheet of paper towards Finch and indicated a date at the top. "See here. Perry's men received a call from a lab in France asking for information on the virus. They have a fetus with the same antibody signature as the viral mutations in Ireland. This should be physically impossible. How can someone unborn have contracted the virus and created antibodies for a virus that is randomly mutating as we speak?"

Finch took the paper and read from the top. He kept his face carefully impassive. _I know how. The scientists know how. Now to just get the warning to Miss Hammond. _"It might not be so random…" he said.

Dascombe wasn't finished. "There's more. Perry has found records that prove the Ministry of Health was involved in creating this virus in the first place. Once this information gets out, people will not queue up for those saline injections. They will start marching in the streets. I can't present this over the air."

"And if you don't?" Finch tucked the paper back inside the folder. "What did Perry tell you?"

"He said he would give me two weeks. Then he would take it to Europe. He told me that he is not the only one with copies, so killing him will not stop this from getting out."

Finch coughed, "He thinks you will kill him?"

"No. But he knows Wilson will. What should I do?"

Finch finished his Scotch. "I can't tell you, Dascombe, but if I were you, I would find out to whom the public will listen. Find him and have him ready at the station when this goes live. You need a Voice of Reason this time."

"There is no more Voice." Dascombe made a sour face; drained his pint.

"No," Finch pushed the file toward Dascombe. "Nor a Finger nor a Head. You will have to find a new Voice. Quickly. If I were you, I would look at the Universities."

XXX

Dominic swung his bag onto the train and followed it through the doors with his body. Another lead, another town. She moved approximately every ten days. He thought he was getting closer, but could not be certain. He knew that she might settle down when she decided to get prenatal careHe had no real idea how far along she might be. He could be off in his estimation by as much as six weeks. _An eternity when it came to pregnancy_. Dominic selected a window seat and set his bag next to him. _I don't want any company tonight._ But he knew she may just as easily forgo any care at all. He remembered her medical books. How much she relied on them, carried them around with her. When he was very ill with the fever she had sat next to his cot, reading. He would open his eyes and see her there, one hand in her book, the other on his left wrist. When he moved she would smile at him and touch his forehead. She would ask, "How do you feel?" Her voice was so soft. Her eyes so warm. He had felt better just looking at her.

He pressed his fingers to his eyes. _She is clever. She eludes my every step. I can only hope that she also eludes Massey and his men_. Communiqués from Finch had confirmed that other men who were hunting Evey had been found and arrested or detained for various reasons, none of them permanent. _That ploy will work until each man retains a lawyer._ It was a delaying tactic, the best they could do for now. Dominic had already used up all his favors with InterPol and Finch was slowly working through all of his. Of the five they knew were hunting her, only Massey remained a threat. But he was worse than any ten profiteers. Massey had a network and capital. Dominic sighed. He leaned back and tried to sleep. _No sleeping when I get to Marseilles_. _I hope she is still there_. He wanted to be there for her when the time came, if only to protect her when she was helpless. _But maybe. Maybe she will be glad to see me._

His mobile rang. He flipped it open. The Inspector. "Stone"

"Dominic."

"Sir?"

"It's time."

"No. You can't mean that." The Chief's voice was raspy, like his throat hurt. Dominic leaned away from the aisle as he spoke into his mobile. "What happened?"

"I have to take the poodle to the vet and have him put down." _The_ _truth about St. Mary's_. _Oh God, someone knows._

"No, Chief. No." Dominic thought hard how to put his thoughts into code. "Has the poodle already escaped?" He held his breath.

"No. Not yet. But he will. I have his red collar. Roger has his veterinary records." _He has Delia's diary and the Tower has the truth._

"Why, Chief? Can't it wait?" _You will be in danger if you do this. Why now?_

There was a long pause, and Dominic knew Finch was having trouble encoding his words as well. Dom waited long enough to feel beads of sweat break out on his forehead. Finally he heard his chief's voice in his ear.

"We are all in danger if he bites us. We will all become infected. This is the only way."

Dominic wasn't sure he understood. Exposing the truth about the virus and its genesis would do more to bring down the government than any amount of explosive. _Is the outbreak so bad? How many have died? _ There were no more body counts on the nightly news. England was a black hole of information now. European reports were merely guesses. The InterLink was rife with rumors, nothing there could be considered a fact. _Why now? How could it help? _ He took a deep breath and coded that thought, "We will miss that dog. He has protected the front garden for years."

Finch responded immediately, "The old vet is dead; there is no way the new vet can cure his distemper without all of his records, and now I fear it is too late. He might bite someone before he is cured. The only hope is to find his previous owner. She is in Marseilles." Dominic went cold. _He is telling me to find Evey and bring her in. Marseilles is correct. I was correct. I am on the right trail. _Finch went on. "If you do find his previous owner, don't send her to the vet. She can send the records to me and I will see they get to the vet. Watch the news."

The line went dead. To end the call without a courtesy of any kind was code for emergency. _"She can send the records to me."_ Dominic frowned. Did Finch mean send the baby, or send the medical files? Dominic didn't try to sleep.

XXX

EV opened the third letter the day she got the news from the lab. She sat in her fine room. Not by the window this time. She closed the drapes and turned on the lamp. _No. Lately I have noticed people staring at me._ Better to hide in the dark. _I am nine floors up, but would prefer to be deep underground. And now, this news from the lab. _ She popped open the third letter and sank into the overstuffed chair, glad to be off her feet.

_You did this to me, V. You gave me this child. And you gave me these worries. I am not alone, but I am. I have no one. An orphan, a widow…the English language defines me by my losses. And this letter. What can you possibly say to me?_ She unfolded the creamy white paper. He had written this one on thick card stock, crisp with linen and a watermark from a prestigious stationer. _Only the finest for him._ _It was as if he took what he could from the best of humanity, and left the rest to rot with the dregs of society. _

She leaned over to turn the lamp to it brightest setting. He had written a lot this time, and his handwriting clearly degenerated near the end. She would need the light.

"_Eve, my love. No doubt you are angry with me now. I know you must be. I know. Yes, I know. You missed your cycle. I noticed. You did not. I thought about reminding you. I thought very hard about it. Yet I could not bring myself to do it. Your intense fears the last time you believed yourself to be pregnant made the decision easier. I would not rain those fears down upon you again. I admit to researching what I could. I can tell you that it is unlikely the child will be damaged. Can you forgive me? I have found Delia's report. When you missed your cycle I searched for it. I have found it. I have read it. Any doctors treating you have not. They will be frightened by what they see, Eve. Please trust me. Delia says that any serious chromosome damage would destroy a fetus early on. You would have miscarried, Eve, if the baby was imperfect. But you didn't. Her report is in the archives in the Ministry of Health. Tell your doctors if you must. I thought I was sterile, Eve. I did. Please believe me. Delia told me I was. She told me, and I believed her, yet now the truth becomes evident within you. I am astonished. I am amazed. I feel such a surge of tenderness thinking about what our love has created._

_Can you forgive me? I knew you would be going through this alone, so I brought in the Detective. When I found him in the tunnel, I brought him to our home though I could easily have taken him topside. I could have left him for the medics. Be kind to him and he will put a good word in for you with Finch. They are the only good men left, Eve. Please let him help you. I am relying on you to accept his help, for if you do not, you will be truly alone. And that is not what I desire._

_I will talk to you of this, this aloneness, the isolation. The solitude was thrust upon me, Eve. I have no memory of the man I was before. The skills I have hint at a life in theatre or music, or art or academia. I wish I knew. None of those avenues, properly pursued, lead to a solitary life. Those professions are full of light and sound and color, and creative people all singing, laughing, dancing and talking. Yet the kind of loneliness I have suffered these past twenty years was a Hell I do not wish upon anyone, least of all you. Please promise me you will not hide yourself away. Promise me you will not tell yourself that I wish for you to remain alone for my sake. There is no greater Hell, Eve. No deeper bastion of demons than the ones who prey upon loneliness. I want a better life for you, my Love. A better life for our child. Give him brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Promise me this. Please, Eve, promise me you will give my child a family. It is all I ever wanted for myself. _

_I cannot give it to him. Promise me you will. I love you. V"_

The last lines wavered, he did not refill the pen when the ink ran out; the last words were silvery grey and the last sentence merely a faded mark on the paper. Evey folded it back up. Her anger was gone. She rubbed the thick paper between her finger and thumb, touching him through his words. _So he didn't lie to me. He was merely wrong_. She quirked her mouth at the corner. _How galling that must have been for him, to be wrong_. And yet there was no underlying sense that being wrong in this instance annoyed him. _He actually seemed…happy._


	9. Chapter 9

Allegro 9

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and DC, among others.

Special thanks to Red and Vean for their extensive Beta help (this was another hard chapter) and to VillainousVexation for her French corrections.

Finch locked up his file cabinets. He wiped the hard drive on Dominic's computer. Then he sat down in front of his own monitor. _Format C:_ He typed two-fingered. His index finger hovered over the enter key. His computer popped up a critical stop and asked him incredulously, "Format C: will format the hard drive. Do you wish to continue?" He tightened his jaw and pressed the key. The screen flashed, a progress bar appeared at the bottom and he watched as his screen went dark. A moment later white words appeared on the monitor. "No drive detected." He pushed his chair back, picked up his Mac from the coat rack and walked out his door.

XXX

Dominic had been grateful for his University French for the last two months. _I have actually improved considerably._ He could function fairly well in French, and when he could not it was relatively easy to find an English speaker. He flipped open his notebook and re-read the last entries. Two hotels had staff who remembered a pregnant woman staying there in the last month. They remembered because she was alone, and because she would not allow them to carry her satchel. Dominic felt a twinge in his guts, thinking of Evey in her eighth month carrying her satchel. He shook his head imagining the frustration of the bell boys watching a pregnant woman carry luggage. He flipped the little book shut and walked into the next hotel lobby, reaching into his suit for his badge and his passport. _Evey, slow down; I am almost there_.

XXX

Finch locked the door to his townhouse and checked his post for the benefit of the cameras he was certain were trained on him. _I will look like a man ready to leave for the office_. He turned around and went down the three steps to the walk. In his mind, he flipped through the various hotels that would be affordable for long term. _Or not long term. _ I may have a tail on me right now. Finch suspected Wilson would try to take him down. Three days ago he had defied a direct order from the Commander. Wilson had "requested" that Finch show up at the Ministry of Health for his "vaccination". Finch and other government Department Heads would be part of a carefully orchestrated media event. The film crew had the shot set up hours in advance. But not all the "actors" arrived. Angry messages were left on his mobile. And a threat. _Where can I go?_ He glanced up at a camera as he turned the corner. _I will disappear at the next block, then take a cab. The blue ones accept cash. No trace. Then where? Piccadilly. I want to be there when Dascombe broadcasts the report. I want to see their faces as they look up at the huge screen. I need to get a feel for their reaction in the moments after the broadcast. Do I stay in London, or will I be more effective in France? The people will tell me. I have to know._

Finch stood near a light pole, watching the screen that dominated Piccadilly Circus. He glanced at his watch. Dascombe said 6 PM, when everyone would be home for tea. Somewhere in Jordan Tower a low-level employee was looking at his watch too. Waiting to follow instructions from the General Manager. Waiting to put a disc into the drive. Finch watched the screen. The news scrolled across the bottom. All good news. "More food in the shops". A lie. The embargo was strangling the country. "Crime statistics down". A more vicious lie. Shops all over London were boarded up, their owners hoarding their goods in their homes, defending their belongings with cricket bats and kitchen knives. The scrolling lies continued, "St. Mary's spread halted by new vaccine." This was the worst of all. Queues a mile long snaked their way along sidewalks all over London, and desperately frightened citizens waited as long as two days to get their shot of saline solution. Finch's cheek twitched. This new idea of Wilson's had been the last straw. _This Government-sponsored lie is the one that finishes my career._

He had left his badge on his desk.

XXX

Roger Dascombe watched as the mid-shift employees picked up their bags and briefcases and coats. Everywhere around him computer monitors were winking to black and the sounds of their keyboards diminished until he heard only the clicking of one machine. His secretary's.

"Hailey, go home," he said to her. He had to repeat it before he heard her shut down and come out of her office. He waited by the elevator, and she paused as the doors opened for her.

"Aren't you leaving?" She looked up at him, then shrugged her mobile out of her purse and flipped it to her cheek. "I'm calling Robert. Do you want to go to dinner with us? He got the promotion and is treating everyone at the pub to a round."

"No. Thank you. Tell Robert I will toast him later tonight." Dascombe held the doors until she stepped in. When they slid together he was alone. The evening shift now began their preparations for the 6 PM news. Dascombe turned on his heel and entered the studio, pulling a DVD from the inside pocket of his Armani. Surprised faces greeted him; he did not meet their eyes. He stepped to the control booth and said, "Everybody out."

XXX

The Chief Inspector looked at his watch. 6 PM. The screen flickered. The image of Roger Dascombe three stories high appeared, calm, impeccable. The scrolling stopped. Dascombe stared intently into the camera. _Where is Dascombe now? If he has any sense he will be in the Outer Hebrides. _ The handsome face on the screen did not smile his media smile. Finch looked around the intersection. People were stopping to watch. Cars were pulling over to the curb. It became eerily quiet in the center of town. The huge image spoke.

"This is Roger Dascombe, General Manager of the BTN. The last six months have been turbulent, difficult and often frightening. You have been told that events of the past November Fifth have caused these troubles. You have been told that terrorists and subversives and seditious troublemakers have been the source of the nation's chaos and turmoil."

Finch flipped the collar of his Mac up over his ears and hunched a little. It was unlikely that the average citizen would recognize him, but his face had been on the telly many times. And I am associated with the Government. Maybe a public place isn't the best choice after all. He slipped his hand into his Mac and touched the grip of his service revolver.

Dascombe continued. "You have been told many things over the years. Most of them untrue. A great many of you have known this from the beginning. The system required that you be told and that you pretend to believe. That system is gone now. It destroyed itself. The system did not need a terrorist, a subversive or a seditious troublemaker to bring about its downfall. Any system built upon a foundation of lies cannot sustain itself. This Government reached critical mass when it announced that a vaccine for the St. Mary's mutation has been developed. That lie, so simple, so appealing, is the most monstrous of them all. I am here to tell you tonight, that those of you who have received the vaccine are not safe and those standing in queues for it are wasting their time."

Finch turned slowly to observe the crowd. They were eerily silent, but none seemed to be poised for violence. They stood, like he was, barely moving. Their eyes focused on the screen. He took his hand out of his coat.

"Unfortunately, my friends, this is not all. All big lies are preceded by others. The foundation for such a big lie is built upon an even greater one. I come to you tonight to inform you that the initial outbreak at St. Mary's fifteen years ago did not originate with religious extremists. This disease was developed here in our own country as a biological weapon, supposedly to be used against our enemies.

"And it appears that the enemy of our government is us. The government of Adam Sutler determined that we were more of a threat to Britain than any foreign power. The weapon he developed was used against British citizens. And it was an effective weapon. Used in the right hands it was supposed to bring unassailable power to a few and stringent order to the many. It has been proven that there are no 'right hands' within the realm of Nature."

Beside him a man coughed. Finch tipped his head just a fraction to see him from the corner of his eye. His fingers twitched; eager to feel the revolver again. But the cough had been a real cough, not a signal for action. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. The face on the screen continued to speak the truth.

"As I speak, no doubt, Commander Wilson will attempt to mobilize the troops. His power, resting precariously upon this lie, must teeter and fall. His tanks will not protect you from this threat. His army cannot keep your children safe. The very men he commands will fall dead before this unstoppable virus. It is my hope that the Military Chain of Command will listen to the Voice of Reason, and respond like responsible Englishmen. Throughout our country's history there have been brave men who step into the line of fire to do what is honorable and right. Cromwell, Nelson, Wellington, Churchill,…and the Liberator known as V. It is April 17th, but I urge you to remember the Fifth of November."

Dascombe's image was replaced by that of three university scientists, a virologist, a physician, and a very nervous representative from the Ministry of Health. The three men began to unfold a dry explanation of the mutating virus including charts and graphs, maps and color-coded body counts.

Finch scanned the crowd. They were subdued. Some of the women were weeping. Some of the men too. A lorry driver knelt beside his vehicle, his face in his hands. Finch waited. They would recover soon. And they did. When the scientists had finished communicating the truth, cars started up again and drove away, people resumed walking to their destinations. A few remained staring at the blank screen. He was aware he was impeding pedestrians and backed against a building. _I have survived the unveiling of the truth._ Someone jostled him; he turned to apologize for blocking the sidewalk and stared into the face of a man he recognized. One of Creedy's men. _Johnson._ A second later he felt the sharp sting of a needle in his back.

XXX

Dominic braced himself imperceptibly against the concierge's counter. _I have found her_. Four months of anxiety seemed to drain from his body, leaving him weak in the knees. He turned his face away and pretended to read his notebook. When he regained his composure, he turned back to the young man and asked, "Ou est elle?"

The bellboy waved toward the door "Elle fait des courses."

"Merci." Dominic flipped his pad shut and nearly flew through the doors.

On the street he looked left and right. She had not checked out. She had told the doorman she was going shopping. "S'il vous plait. Femme seule enceinte? The doorman pointed to the right. Dominic tipped him generously and then asked, "Quand?"

"Une heure."

Dominic strode down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians. The weather was beautiful, warm and sunny. This was terrible. There must be hundreds of people out shopping, strolling, enjoying the sun in sidewalk bistros. He stopped to scan the crowds. He was taller than average and could see over their heads, _but Evey is smaller_. She could easily be hidden anywhere in the crowd. _But she is very pregnant_. She will not walk too far or too fast. _What would she be shopping for? Not food. She takes her meals in the hotel. Not gifts. No. Not wine. Clothing? Perhaps. Maternity_. He tried to remember the French word for maternity. Failed. _Baby clothes? Ah, more likely_, and he knew those words. Instead of scanning the crowd, he scanned the shops, looking at the signs above, scanning for the word "bebe" and "layette". There. Two blocks away. Not too far for a pregnant woman to walk on a sunny day. _That is why she chose this hotel. Yes._ He dodged a fat man in Bermuda shorts, then sidestepped a young woman leading two children by the hands. He paused, watching the lights before running across the street. A woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and a shopping bag was standing by the light pole a block away adjusting her dress. Dominic held his breath. _Turn. Turn around_. She did, looking up and down the street. He saw her belly. _It is Evey. I found her_. He leapt without looking, knocking a man off the curb, "Pardon," he called out over his shoulder as his shoes hit the pavement.

XXX

Evey frowned. _Maybe I am paranoid, but it seems like I am being followed._ She stopped, leaned against the light pole as she adjusted her purse and dress. She casually looked behind her, noting the pedestrians, the street vendors, the police, businessmen, tourists…there. _That man looks familiar. I saw him yesterday when I went to the market. _ As soon as she saw him he ducked behind an awning that hung low over a bistro. _Now I know he is following me. Why?_ She smoothed the dress over her belly and held tightly to her bag. _He is not trying to steal something. That would be too easy. I cannot chase him like this. I can barely walk without waddling. Why?_ Evey could not think of a reason, but her uneasy feeling increased as she made her way to the curb. Her plans to shop for baby clothes would have to be cut short after a visit to just a single shop. A cab which had been driving slowly behind her stopped for her immediately and she got in the back. "Hotel Bompard, s'il vous plait."

The driver did not acknowledge her request. Evey leaned forward, perhaps he did not hear. She opened her mouth to repeat her request when she heard the ominous sound of door locks clicking shut around her. The cab made a sharp turn to the right and accelerated down a side street. Evey was thrown backwards and to the side, her packages strewn to the car floor. All her conversational French left her. In English she shouted, "Stop! I want out! What are you doing? Are you insane?" She clawed at the wire screen that separated her from the driver. "I am calling the police! Do you understand? Police!" She knew that word was the same in both languages.

She picked up her mobile from the floor, no dial tone. _How can that be?_ She banged the phone against the wire in frustration. "Stop, you crazy bastard!" The car barreled through a neighborhood, scattering pedestrians. _We are headed out of town. Oh no_. She pressed her face against the screen, holding on with her fingers. She saw a scrambler on the front seat. _So_. _What the holy fuck is this about?_ "Who are you? And why do you want me?" She shouted at him. He made no indication he heard her. It was useless to scream at him. _I am trapped. Why? Why? Am I being robbed?_ "Do you want my purse? Here! Take it. Let me out. You can have it all. I can get you money from a machine. Is that what you want?" Evey pressed her purse against the wire. No response. _Am I being kidnapped_? _There is no one to pay my ransom_. The baby kicked her hard. She sat back. _Oof. The baby._


	10. Chapter 10

Allegro 10

Rated R

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and others

Evey pressed her face to the window and tried to orient herself. She knew they were driving north because the sun was sinking low on her left. In minutes the cab was out of the city. Traffic was too light on the single lanes for Evey to signal to any passing vehicle. The driver drove just over the speed limit while in the city, not fast enough to draw attention, but he made good time when they passed the last cluster of houses and the road stretched out in front of them. Green fields flashed by at 120 kpm. Evey took a deep breath to calm the baby who had been kicking her ribs mercilessly. She put her hand over the spot where a tiny heel was thumping her. _Calm down, baby_, she thought. _Let Mummy think_.

_Is this a Government job? Could be. I am still wanted. I know that. But this driver?_ Evey leaned a little to try to see more of his face. His features were heavy and stupid, his jowls sagged nearly to his collar and his ears were large and misshapen. _That doesn't really mean anything, does it? I just expect Government men to be in suits._ She looked behind her. A small black sedan had been following since before they left the city. It had made no attempt to pass, but remained at a constant two-car distance behind. Four men's heads were visible through the windows. _ Four men. Men do not ride together in cars. Unless._ She leaned the other way to see through the wire and the windscreen. A black sedan was in front of them. Also with four men in it. _I see_. Evey sat back. _Pepper spray is not going to help me this time. This is using a lot of men to arrest a lone pregnant woman. If these were government men, wouldn't they be working with the French? Wouldn't local Marseilles gendarmes have arrested me as I walked into the lobby of my hotel? I couldn't have run away._

_No. This is not Government. This is not official. Who else? Who else cares? Who else knows? I must be something about V. The art? The explosives? The money?_ She looked behind her again. The sun was sinking and soon it would be dark. The car drove over a bridge and Evey looked down at a river far below. _I will remember this. Over a bridge, forest to the right, fields to the left. A water tower. No markings. _The headlights of all three cars blinked on as the sun sank below the horizon, and still they drove. The air inside the car was cooler now that the sun was gone. Evey crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.

XXX

Dominic waited in the lobby, looking at his watch periodically. At first it was every twenty minutes or so, then every ten. Finally he gave up and just stared at it, thinking. He had seen her get in the cab, and had even written down the license plate.

Dominic had immediately returned to the hotel, ready to wait for her, but when tea time came and went without a blonde woman coming through the doors, he assumed she had stopped at a bistro. _I will wait longer, then. She will be tired when she gets back_. As the sun went down he frowned. _It makes no sense for her to be out shopping after dark_. He waited another 30 minutes, then called the cab company and find out where she had been dropped off.

XXX

The Chief Inspector opened his eyes. It hurt to look at things. The light was too bright. He closed them quickly as his head began to thump. A hand touched his thigh, then his shoulder. He tried to concentrate on the men in the lobby. It had taken all of his strength just to get there, he had nothing left.

"Inspector? Can you hear me?"

Part of him was still functioning. He recognized the voice. It was Perry. Finch moistened his lips and rasped out a hoarse, "Yes." He tried to sit up, to open his eyes and respond, but his body defied him. _Three days. It only took three days for the virus to take me down. _It seemed to him that it had taken the entire incubation period just to get to Perry's lab. He had a vague memory of a hotel room, a hot bath, walking for miles…_but I am here now_. When he had realized what had happened in Piccadilly…_Perry…Perry is talking to me…_he had set out for Perry's lab_. Focus._

"Inspector. I have called in Dr. Montrose from the Leeds Research Group. He has agreed to treat you. We are giving him access to our files."

Finch squinted, opening one eye as little as possible. "Montrose?"

"Yes. He was in Edinburgh and Dublin colleting data on those outbreaks. He is the best man to call. He agrees we need to keep you out of hospital for now, especially after what happened to Mr. Dascombe. You can stay here in the lab. I have set up the staff lounge as an infirmary. I have placed a bed there for you, Sir. Do you think you can walk?"

Finch moved one leg then the other off the sofa. His head felt heavy; he tried to lift his shoulders. Nothing seemed to work. Moving his legs seemed to use up the last of his strength. _I've walked all I can_. He heard Perry say to another scientist, "We'll need Angus in here to lift him."

XXX

Evey thought hard. No one knew where she was. No one cared. She looked down at the mobile phone on the seat beside her. It was useless with that scrambler on. _They will take it away from me as soon as we stop_. She glanced in the rearview mirror, then pushed the tiny phone into the crevasse between the seat and the back. _This is all I have, my only link to the outside world, an unfeeling world that goes about its business while I am about to be murdered._ That thought didn't frighten her until the baby kicked. _Baby_…she pressed her hand over her belly where the kicking was strongest. This _is a strong baby. V's baby. If he were here_…she looked at the back of the driver's head. _That man would be dead and the car upside down in the ditch. But he is not here. He will never be here again. No one is going to save me, and no one can save this baby except me._

The car in front glowed red from brake lights. Evey braced herself in the back seat as it slowed to a crawl. The brake lights disappeared as the car turned to the right. Moments later the cab's tires left the pavement, following the sedan onto a gravel road. Evey tried to see out her window, but the night was too dark. Ahead of the sedan in the distance a tiny light grew larger as the approached. Some minutes on the gravel and then she could see an old farmhouse. The sedan stopped, the cab stopped, the car behind them pulled up beside her. _We are here. Wherever that is._

XXX

Dominic's hand shook as he flipped his mobile shut. _That was no cab_. He fought to keep his fear from shutting his mind down. _I was almost there. I was ten meters away. Where to now? Was it Massey? Who else?_ He bet his head over his chest as he went through the list of operatives he knew were on Evey's trail. Each one was accounted for. He had checked up on each man's status this week, all but Massey. _It has to be Massey_. He calmed himself with a deep breath, remembered his training, and separated his heart from his brain. He gathered his thoughts, isolated his fears, and itemized the procedures. Sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Bompard, Detective Sergeant Dominic Stone flipped the mobile open again and pressed a button, then put the phone to his ear, his face hard. _Time to go to work._

In a London laboratory an abandoned mobile chirped.

XXX

Evey held tightly to the door handle. She knew she would not be able to stop them from pulling her out of the car, but it gave her a feeling of control, a little comfort knowing that for a few seconds she would be firmly in place. Faces appeared in the windows. _I am an animal in a cage._ A torch shone through the glass and made her turn her face away from the bright light. Then the door opened. The fresh air revived her, blew her dress up around her knees. The door behind her opened as well. She released her grip on the handle lest she fall into the gravel. Strong arms hauled her out of the car and set her on her feet. More hands pinned her arms behind her. A heavy cockney voice barked an order.

"Get 'er mobile, Jake, and smash it on the rocks." _English. They are English. _"An' bring in 'er bag."

Evey felt thin cords being wrapped around her wrists behind her back. She looked at the house as two men turned her and steered her towards the cottage. A rectangle of light appeared as someone opened the door. She looked over her shoulder at the car. _Did they find the phone?_ In the cab two men were busily digging around in the back seat, tiny baby shirts and booties and sleepwear were strewn along the gravel outside the doors. Evey had to turn back to the door when they pushed her forward; she was forced up the two stone steps and shoved into the cottage.

Inside the cottage it was warm and bright. She was pushed through the kitchen into the main room by the fireplace. An older man with grey at his temples and tiny eyes stood before the window, a nasty grin on his face. Obviously he was delighted about something_. About me._ He bowed, more mocking than polite. His voice was deep, but there was no accompanying refinement in its tones. He nodded rudely toward her belly. "Miss Hammond. I see you were enjoying yourself some nine months ago." He had a broad northern accent.

Evey narrowed her eyes. _What is this all about?_ "Who are you?" she asked him, keeping her voice steady.

"My name is Peter Massey, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that you are here now, and it is payday."

"What are you talking about?" Evey twisted her head, trying to see the men who held her.

"We are talking about you, Miss Hammond. You know the security codes for the basement room where the art is held. You are the only one who knows the codes. I would like to be the second person to know them."

"That's it?" Evey was incredulous. Yes, she had locked the Shadow Gallery behind her as she left. But a determined man with an acetylene torch could get through in a day at the most. _Stupid to spend months looking for the codes from me._ She felt a wave of contempt for this man, Massey. _What an imbecile._

Massey seemed taken a back by her reaction. She saw suspicion cross his forehead and settle in his eyes. "You have the codes. I know you do. Give them to me, and I will release you. It is that simple." He said these words, but his voice told her he was lying. _He is not going to release me._

Evey tried to remember the codes. _Do I even know them now? Yes._ She remembered. _So. I give him a string of numbers and the cab drives me back to the hotel? No. And if I don't tell him?_ The baby kicked her. She looked at Massey sideways and said, "Forty two, eleven, twenty six, fifty."

Massey laughed. "You think you are very clever, Miss Hammond, but you are simple-minded. For the last five months the Fingermen have been running their computers on that security system. Day and night for five months, the codebreakers have been at it. Did you know that the system the terrorist set up changes the codes constantly? The computer will never catch up with it. It is not a matter of a few numbers, Miss Hammond. I need to know the master code to the programmer's box. I have to stop the terrorist's computer from changing the codes long enough to allow the cryptologists to get a match. I would like that code please. It is not a string of numbers, and the bomb will not forgive a wrong entry."

Evey's knees shook. _What did you do, V?_ _A bomb?_ _No. V would never…would he? Did he? No. Maybe he did. _ He had never discussed the security system with her beyond giving her entry codes and showing her how to use the comlink. The comlink was in her satchel in the hotel. _Is that what they want? It is._ She could not hide the fear in her face. The comlink controls the programmer's box. The comlink holds the master code.

Massey saw her. He grinned; his face broke up into wrinkles and square yellow teeth. "Yes, I see you understand. There must be a device, like a key, that holds the complex programming for the system. Where is it?"

"Not in 'er bag, Boss."

"No." Massey took a step toward her. "No. Not in her bag. In a safe perhaps? In Geneva? The hotel safe, with your diamonds?" He loomed over her, she smelled his armpits, and his supper on his breath. "You are worth half a million pounds to me right now, Miss Hammond. That's how much your government has put on your head. But the code to enter the basement is worth many times that. I think," Massey put two heavy hand on her belly and squeezed hard. Evey felt the baby erupt into violent movements. "I think we can come to an agreement." He looked past her to the men waiting in the doorway behind her. "Get the ropes and the truncheons. And you, Hornsey, yank the battery out of that cab."


	11. Chapter 11

Allegro 11

Rated R

Disclaimer: characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, DC and others.

XXX

Dominic pulled his fingers through his hair. The Chief had not answered. _The Chief always answers. Maybe he is in the shower. _ He looked at his watch. _Not at this hour, unless he is going out. Unlikely._ But the Chief would not have mentioned it if he had met a woman. _No_. Dominic knew Finch too well. _There is no woman_. _Why didn't he answer?_ He frowned at his phone, then tucked it into his inside pocket, thinking.

"Madam Abernathy, s'il vous plait."

Dominic froze. Carefully he tipped his head so he could see who had spoken. A man in a courier's uniform was standing at the concierge's counter with a package in his hand. The desk manager picked up his phone and dialed. Dominic held his breath. After a moment the manager hung up and said, "Madam n'est pas ici, je l'appelerai a son mobilophone." Again he picked up the phone and dialed. After a moment he shook his head and said, "Il n'y a acune reponse." The courier looked like he was going to leave with the package. Dominic was behind him in seconds, blocking his retreat.

In French he said, "Pardon," he pulled out his badge, "I am investigating Madam Abernathy. You have a package for her?"

Both men became agitated. The desk manager called for his supervisor. Dominic set his badge on the counter and pulled out his passport. "Please call Monsuier de Vermer at InterPol," he told the desk manager. After the Hotel Manager arrived it was a matter of just a few minutes before all introductions and confirmations of authority were settled. Dominic examined the package. It was from R. Perry, London. He showed no expression as he read the return address. He flipped open his pad. "And the mobile number?" He wrote down Evey's number as the desk manager read it off. "Merci." He gave the package back to the courier. His instructions were that it be delivered into Madame's hands and no one else's. Dominic didn't mind. He suspected he knew what was inside. _Perry is sending her copies of his research_. The courier told them he would be back tomorrow. Dominic shook hands all around and thanked the Manager. He took the precious phone number out through the front doors with him.

_No answer. I didn't expect one._ He didn't leave a voice mail for Evey. He wasn't sure what her reaction might be to hearing his voice. Dominic called London next. "Put me through to Bernard, please," he told the operator at Scotland Yard. He waited impatiently until the night shift supervisor picked up the line. "Bernard, it's Stone.

"Stone. What can I do for you?"

"I need the registration for a mobile with this number." He read off Evey's number, then listened as Bernard typed it into his computer.

"Purchased in Geneva in January."

Dominic wrote down the registration number. "Now I need you to transfer me to Operations, thank you, Bernie." The line clicked as his call went to the heart of Scotland Yard's information-gathering center.

"Operations."

"This is Stone. I need to track a mobile transponder."

"One moment."

Dominic got into his car as London responded.

"Detective Stone, enter the registration number, please."

His thumb pressed the thirteen digits, then linked his mobile to his laptop on the front seat. _I'm coming, Evey._

No moon helped him as he sped out of the lights of Marseilles, north into rural darkness. The tiny laptop on the seat beside him flashed Evey's GPS signal from her mobile transponder. She was more than seventy kilometers away. Dominic made the small car hum on the pavement, going as fast as he could without damaging the undercarriage. The road was paved, but in need of repair. Every few minutes the car took a pothole that shook his whole body. Too many of them and the tires would fail, or the shocks. He could not see well enough at that speed to avoid them. InterPol back-up would be at least an hour behind him. _I am not waiting for them._ He pressed harder on the accelerator. Beside him on the seat his laptop beeped. He glanced down at the glowing map. Evey's signal had disappeared.

"No!" he pulled off the road and turned on the interior lights. His laptop had told him the truth, but had saved the data from the last transmission. He tapped the keyboard to call that up again. _I will be able to get to that last transmission site, but back-up won't. They need the signal. Is the phone dead? Or worse?_ His mind raced. He put the car in gear again and increased his speed, estimating it would be an hour before he arrived at the phone's last known location. _And back-up…delayed even longer now_. There was no telling how many men Massey had with him. He averaged five to eight in his personal guard when he was in London. _In France…no telling_. Dominic considered his .38. He had taken it apart and oiled it, cleaned it, then fired it at the range with disappointing results. His trigger finger was stiff. The tendons in his hand were weak. He had completely missed the target at least twice when his hand had spasmed when he pulled the trigger. He flexed all his fingers against the steering wheel. _A lot of good those trophies are doing now_.

The hour dragged on, Dominic slowed down as he neared the last known location of the phone. He turned off the headlights and coasted in neutral until the car rolled to a stop. He disabled the interior lights so they would not come on when he opened his door, but left the engine running. It was a cool night for April this far south. The bright afternoon had soon dulled to grey and the starless sky suggested rain later on. He put his arm through his Mac as he paced along the shoulder of the road, looking for an intersection. The green blip on the map was ninety degrees and half a kilometer from this location, but he could see nothing; no road, no house, no streetlight. _There must be a road that intersects this one. They would not have taken her across country on foot._ _These are planted fields._ He swept the dark countryside with his eyes, listening with his ears. A dog barked; he heard the wind in the trees. Below him frogs were croaking in the ditch that flanked the road for miles. His mother had told him that frogs croaking at night meant rain. He looked up at the sky. _Maybe. But Mum is from Brighton. Croaking might mean something else in France_. He turned his head, listening. Eyes won't help me in this darkness. He waited. There it was. _A door slamming_. Sounded like a car door. Not a house door. He focused his eyes in that direction. Sure enough, a tiny flash of light and another slam. Someone had opened and closed a car door. He fixed the location in his memory and got back in his car. He crept along the road, headlights off; until he was opposite the place he had seen the light.

A gravel lane connected the main road to his right. He stopped and got out again to test it. _How loud will it sound?_ He stepped off the gravel onto the dirt. The shoulder was narrow, but firmly packed. _Tractors have been here_. He knelt and traced the tractor tread with a finger. _Firm enough for a tractor, firm enough for a little car._ A low rumble of thunder made him look up at the sky again. _Rain is bad for the road, good for cover._ _They won't hear me coming_.

He drove on the shoulder, creeping closer to where he had seen the flash of light. He saw the white stucco of the cottage and stopped the car about ten meters away. Very carefully he turned it around, making sure not to allow the tires to touch the noisy gravel. The rain was too light to cover him completely. The flashes of lightning were too far away to illuminate his car or his path. He left the engine on, he had plenty of petrol, and a fast getaway might make the difference between life and death. He crept closer to the house, his pistol drawn, each wary step placed deliberately until he was close enough to see the dark cars in the yard. _This is it._ The cab is right there, the bonnet open. He moved closer and looked inside. The battery is gone. He quashed the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. _I will feel later. Think now_. His shoe crunched. He froze. Under his heel was a piece of plastic. He knelt, looking around as he dropped to his knee to pick it up. _The broken cover of a mobile phone. _

Dominic gripped the pistol harder as he stood. He side-stepped to the corner of the cottage. _Where is the guard?_ He led with the barrel of his gun around the corner, his ears straining to hear something, anything. The rainfall increased, its noisy drumming hindered his ability to hear. He waited. Ahead of him, around the side of the cottage he saw a tiny flicker of light. He recognized a butane lighter flicking on and off with a click. _There's the guard. He is standing under the porch roof to get out of the rain. That is why he did not hear me drive up. He would rather be dry than alert. Good._ Dominic looked up at the eaves. The cottage was thatched, but the dormers and the porch overhangs were made of tin. _Very noisy_. He crept closer, tucking his revolver back into the holster under his Mac. The rain dripped off his hair and ran down his cheeks. _This is not the place for a shot; this is the place for a slice_. He lifted the leg of his trousers to expose a sheath strapped to his calf. He kept his eyes on the glowing cigarette as he slid the long knife from its leather home. Seconds later the cigarette sizzled in a puddle of blood. Dominic pushed open the door.

XXX

Evey closed her eyes. It was easier if she didn't have to look at him. They had taken her to the basement and tied her to a chair. The cords around her arms were tight enough to make her hands tingle. She tried to think. She heard the voices of the six men around her, a variety of dialects, all working class, all rough. They all stank. Her stomach threatened to revolt every time one of them bent over her.

"You want I should hit her, Boss?"

Evey's eyes flew open with alarm. One of the men had a truncheon raised behind his head.

Massey answered, "No. We don't' want to break the skin, Mick. Wilson won't pay top dollar if she is damaged. That's what he said."

Mick lowered the stick. "What, then?" He asked.

"We'll start with her fingers." Evey couldn't help but think of Dominic. Her own fingers looked so fragile. It wouldn't take much to break them. _But that is "damaged" isn't it? Surely they won't break them. _

Mick used the truncheon to lift her middle finger and bend it back. "How far, Boss?"

There was a thud upstairs. Everyone stopped and looked up at the ceiling. Massey frowned. "Carson, go up and see what that was about." A lean blonde man nodded and disappeared from her field of vision. She heard him thumping up the stairs behind her. Massey jutted his chin at Mick. "Go on. Bend it back until she makes a noise." Before Mick could touch her, Evey made a noise. Massey chuckled. "Very clever. This is going to be fun."

Mick slowly raised her finger until it hurt, then made it burn, and finally Evey squeezed tears from her eyes as she imagined the joint in her knuckle tearing in two. Massey made a motion with his hand and Mick released her finger. It sprang back, aching. "That was just in case you forgot what pain feels like, Miss Hammond." The baby kicked her. Evey took another deep breath, getting ready for the next twist. _I can do this. I have done it before_. Upstairs there was another thump. Massey had a decidedly annoyed look on his face. "What the hell is going on up there, for Christ's sake." He looked at one of the men; the one who looked like his nose had been broken more times than he could count on his fingers. Massey pointed upstairs. "Go up, leave the door open and tell Smythe and Harding I want them down here right now."

Mick tapped the truncheon on his palm, waiting patiently. While Massey was looking up the stairs after Broken Nose Man, he used the end of the truncheon to poke Evey in the belly. Then he laughed. "Must be 'ard to get around like that, like a punkin strapped t' yer stomach. Massey, you ever fuck a pregnant woman?"

Massey turned back, "No. Never had to. Not going to start now." He came back to Evey and bent over her, his huge hands on her arms. "Where is the key code, Hammond?"

Evey thought about telling him. She had a quick fantasy about telling him where the comlink was and how nice he would be, how he would drive her back to the hotel, buy her a new phone, apologize for messing up the baby clothes. She snorted. She could tell him, but he wouldn't let her go. He would have to keep her until he got his hands on the comlink, then would keep her longer while he took it to London. _After the Gallery is opened, there is no reason to keep me at all. Will he put me on a train and just let me leave? The bounty on me will be gone. Or will it? Do they want me for crimes against the State, or for those key codes? _ She frowned. There was no way she was going to escape by getting loose and running away. If she was going to save the baby she would have to out-think them. _That should be fairly easy_. Massey nodded to Mick who drew closer. "Mick here, is curious. He wants to know what it feels like to fuck a pregnant woman. I can't see how that could damage her much. What do you think, Mick?"

"'ave to do it from behind. Can't get much traction on top wi' that belly." Evey shuddered. _Goon. But you will have to untie me first, won't you._

Another thump from upstairs made both men swear. Evey jumped in her chair when she heard a gunshot. Then another. Massey's eyes widened in surprise. He jabbed a hand at Mick, who drew a pistol from the back of his pants and leapt up the stairs, the other three men looked worried and drew out their own pistols, but none of them made a move to leave the room. Massey pointed to the coal chute. One of the men put his pistol away and climbed up on the bin and opened the double doors. Massey kept his eyes on the stairway as he said, "Climb out, all of you. It could be the police. Could be Haversham and his men. Secure the cars." The men disappeared one by one up through the cellar's coal doors. Water poured down into the bin, the sound of a thunderstorm filled the cellar. Evey watched as she was abandoned by her tormentors. Massey was the last to leave; he looked down at her from the top of the chute. "No way can you climb up this chute Miss Hammond. You had better pray it is the Police upstairs, Haversham is not as kind and gentle as I am."

Almost immediately Evey heard the door to the stairwell slam open behind her and heavy footsteps came pounding down. _One set of footsteps. Only one_. _If it were the police, there would be many of them. _ Her throat tightened. _What now?_ She braced herself for the worse. _A shot on the back? A blow to the head? Rape?_ Instead of a blow, she felt the cords released and her hands fell limply from the arms of the chair. She looked up.

_Dominic._


	12. Chapter 12

Allegro 12

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, DC and others

* * *

_Dominic._

Evey gasped. He was nearly unrecognizable. His hair was plastered to his head with the rain, blood spattered his Mac from his neck to his knees, but beneath the gore, she saw his familiar dark eyes, his firm mouth and his jaw set with determination. _It is Dominic_. She looked down to his right hand. _Healed. He is using it to untangle me from the chair_. He glanced down once at her belly, then back at her face for just a moment before sweeping the cellar with a practiced eye. She barely had time to formulate a new thought before he had her by the upper arm and was dragging her up the stairs. As they crested the top he let go of her and drew his revolver from inside his Mac. His eyes followed the barrel of the pistol as he waved it back and forth from one end of the room to the other. Evey stared at the floor. Six men lay still in red relief on the cottage's wooden floorboards, their bodies crumpled where they fell. Some had been slashed, two had been shot. Evey had no opportunity to notice any more than that, for her arm was again in an iron grip and she was hauled through the cottage's front door and out into the rain. She stopped trying to see where she was going. Dominic was steering her, towing her, jerking her along without speaking. She remained silent as well, understanding that he was fully focused on the enemy. _Where is Massey?_

She tried to scan the darkness as he was doing, but the ground was so rough and muddy and the pace too fast for her to much more that watch where her feet were going. He stopped suddenly, she looked up. _A car._ He opened the front passenger door and shoved her inside. "Put your seatbelt on, Eve. Put it on now and lean over, keep your head low." Then he was gone. Eve obeyed, her hands trembling. She pulled the seatbelt out and stretched it out over her belly, fastening it under the bulge over her thighs. After the comforting click of the latch she leaned over as he had instructed and tried to see Dominic out the open driver's side door.

Nothing. The engine was running, keys in the ignition. Rain was soaking the driver's seat, thunder rumbled in the distance, visibility was nonexistent. Evey squirmed in her seat, trying to see everything at once. Two shots rang out then she heard the scrunch of wheels on gravel. A moment later a flurry of beige, the odor of wet blood and wet man blew into the car as Dominic threw himself into the driver's seat and put the car in gear. He slammed his door shut and pressed the accelerator. Evey was thrown back against the headrest. She held on with both hands to whatever she could grasp as the car sped down the gravel drive and then fishtailed as it hit the pavement and turned left.

Evey looked behind them. One of the sedans was closing on the rear bumper, the other…she looked for it. _In front_. The other car was in front of them, it brake lights swerved back and forth across both lanes as it tried to slow Dominic down or force him off the road. _And Dominic_. She watched him drive. He constantly checked the mirrors, his arms stiff, his teeth clenched as he pushed the little car to the limits of its tiny engine. Evey made herself small in her seat, holding on. _He can do it. He can_. A shot from behind zinged off the roof of the car. Evey ducked as Dominic swerved again, almost taking two tires onto the shoulder. He regained control immediately, his eyes narrowed as he stared into the rearview mirror. Evey cringed. She would not want to see those vicious eyes turned on her. A flush crept up from his neck to cover his face and he bared his teeth. "Keep your head down, Eve."

She tried to obey him, but she had to see what was happening. Evey raised her head just enough to see over the dash. Ahead of them, the sedan continued to weave back and forth, preventing them from passing. Dominic pressed on the pedal and forced the front of the little car into the bumper of the sedan. There was a small bump, then the sedan sped forward. Dominic matched its speed, Evey saw him gauging the distance. Ahead of them she saw the bridge over the river. _He will try to pass before we get there_. The roar of an engine made her look behind them. The pursuing sedan was dangerously close. _Inches._ She called out to him, "Dominic, behind us!" _Too late._ The more powerful sedan deliberately struck their bumper on the left sending them out of control. Evey squeezed her eyes shut and held tightly to her seat as the little car began to spin.

* * *

Dominic felt his heart drop to his stomach as the car careened off the pavement and toward the embankment. He had time to glance at Evey to see if her seatbelt was on before the spin demanded his eyes return to the windshield. But there was no more straight ahead. The car bounced and spun along the shoulder until he felt the front end dip. _We are going over_. He stopped thinking as his training took control. He turned the wheel into the skid, slowing their progress and gaining some traction, then he whipped the wheel over so the car pointed straight down, minimizing the chance it might roll. He felt the undercarriage bounce on rocks, the wheels left the ground momentarily to come pounding back and sliding even faster toward the river below. In his ears he heard the crunching of the underbrush, the metallic clang of the stones as the car seemed to find every rock on its way down. And the screaming. _Evey_. His thigh trembled with the exertion of his foot on the brake, his arms strained with the wheel. Every boulder wanted to rip the wheel from his hands. He could see nothing through the windshield. Branches whipped past, the rain and mud smeared by the wipers made him blind. _We must come to a stop soon_; he felt the wheels sliding on mud now, no more rocks. _But we must not roll_. The car bumped a rock again, twisted to the side. He felt the uphill wheels leave the ground. _We will not roll_. The muscles of his arms and shoulders bunched as he turned the wheel into the skid again, straightening the car. He felt all four wheels on the ground again. The car slowed. Then a great jolt as it stopped suddenly. He was thrown forward against the wheel, the muddy glass inches from his nose before he felt his seatbelt catch him. _Evey._

The screaming had stopped. "Evey!" His own voice sounded strange to his ears, "Evey!"

"Dominic!"

"Oh God. Evey."

It was dark. The headlights had been broken on the first boulder. The dashboard lights flickered. The car shifted sideways and slid sickeningly a few more yards toward the river. Evey screamed again. Dominic reached for her as the car slid to a stop. "Evey. Are you hurt?" There wasn't much time.

"I don't know! I don't know!" He saw the flash of her wild eyes as the dashboard lights bathed them in an eerie green glow.

Dominic squeezed her shoulder with one hand while he reached in his holster with the other. "Stay here. Don't move. I will be right back. I mean it. Don't move."

He unfastened his belt and climbed upwards. The car had come to a rest with Evey's door against a sapling, not big enough to support the weight of the car for long. They were fully halfway down the embankment. Above him on the road he could see the headlights of the big sedan, but not the other one. He released the safety on his revolver. Listened. The sound of crunching in the underbrush from above reached him. He tried to focus his eyes, but the headlights of the car above him blinded him to anything moving, and the rain made it hard to see.

He moved laterally behind his car, choosing his footholds carefully and trying to get out of the headlights which pointed at him like searchlights. He waited, counting his heartbeats while his night vision returned. He knew to use the corners of his eyes. _There._ He brought the pistol up. Held his breath, drew a bead and fired, then he heard the crashing of a man as he tumbled down the bank. The body rolled over and over, Dominic leaped out of the way as the man's body bounced off a rock, became airborne and smashed with a sickening thump against the side of his car, making it lurch against the sapling. Dominic pointed the .38 up at the road. He heard an engine gunning, watched the big sedan's headlights swerve and speed away. He swung both arms, pistol straight ahead at the other car. He listened. The roar of the river made it hard to hear, but now that the headlights were gone, he should be able to see movement. _Nothing._ Nothing in the brush. _Can I risk it?_ Behind him he heard Evey sobbing. _Yes. I must_. He holstered the .38, and then made one last hard look up the hill before he turned back to the car. The dead man lay across his door. He gathered up a wad of the man's collar and heaved him over against the rear door, then put one foot in the driver's side. Holding tightly to the car's roof he was able to climb in without falling on Eve.

"Evey." She was gasping, little sobs, hyperventilating. "Evey." He used his best calming voice. "Can you unfasten your seatbelt?"

"No. No! Dominic! My water broke! It broke! I feel it, it is pouring down my legs. Oh God!"

"Shh, shh." Dominic focused his thoughts. _First things first. Get out of the car. Can't stay in the car_. Already the vehicle slid a little every time he sifted position. "I will get the seatbelt. Be still." She had started to struggle. He felt along the belt that crossed over her shoulders. The latch was jammed. "Hold still, Evey. I will get you out."

"Hurry! Hurry!"

Dominic moved his foot so he could get closer. The tilt of the car required that one hand brace him lest he fall on her. He lifted one leg and put his foot on her door, testing it before allowing all his weight to rest there. The door held. He pulled on his trouser leg and exposed the leather sheath strapped to the inside of his calf.

"What? What?" Evey grabbed his wrist. "Where did you get that?" she cried.

"You are right. It's his, it's V's knife. The Inspector sent it to me, Eve. I'm going to cut you free." She held the wrist that held the blade, staring at it for a moment, then burst into tears. "Eve." He freed his arm and cut her seatbelt in two places, freeing her, then slid the long knife back into the sheath. "Listen to me. We have to get out of the car. We have to climb up and out the driver's side door. You will have to use me as a ladder. Do you understand?" Put your foot here." He took her ankle and positioned her foot against her door next to his. "Okay, push yourself out of your seat." He held her as she strained to stand in the awkward space. Her huge belly pressed against him as he lifted her under her arms and helped her straighten her legs, then he pulled and pushed until she was half way though the door. He heard her gasp.

"Dominic!"

The dead man. Yes. "He's dead, Evey. Keep going. Don't look at him. Put your foot here. He took her foot and wedged it against the parking brake. Push up Evey, climb."

"Oh my God."

"What?" He had her in his arms, ready to push her through the door, but she stopped. The car swayed against the sapling. "Don't stop, Eve. Keep going." He pushed hard against her hips, lifting, but she did not budge.

"Ha…Dominic."

"What?"

"A contraction."

He paused in the dark. He felt her body tense against his arms. The lights from the dashboard winked out as the battery failed. The car slid another foot, tilting them towards the river below. "We can't wait, Eve!" he said. "I am going to push you and you must climb out, do you hear me?"

She did not answer, but when he pushed her he felt her legs move as she scrambled through the door. A moment later he was alone in the car. Then he was out, his final kick against the parking brake sent the car and the dead body sliding off the sapling and down to river below. He watched as it bounced and rolled to the bottom, and then looked up to see Evey on the ground above him. _Next thing_.

"Evey. Are you injured? Do you have any pain in your arms or legs? Are you cut? Are you bleeding?"

Her voice was small. Scared. "I don't think so."

"I'm going to pull you up this embankment. It is slippery, it looks like a long way, but we can't stay here, Eve. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Dominic could not see her eyes in the dark. Her voice told him she was still in shock from the crash. He set his shoes firmly against a rock, lifted her to her feet and pressed her to his body. "Tell me if you have another contraction and we will stop," he said gently. She nodded against his chest. He tested each foothold before lifting her each step of the way. They almost reached the top before she clutched at him.

"Contraction. Stop."

He did, holding her as he felt her stiffen again. She made no sound. When she relaxed he took another step and lifted her to the roadway and set her firmly on the tarmac. The rain had diminished to a drizzle and there were no streetlights, no moon. The other car was mere yards from him, crunched against the guardrail of the bridge. _No traffic_. Dominic turned to Evey and put his hands on her shoulders. "I have to check out that car. I want you to sit down here. Sit down and rest." She sank down wordlessly, he waited a moment before drawing his pistol, to make sure she wasn't going to faint. When he was certain she would be all right, he stalked the other car, flanking the driver's side with his .38 cocked, both arms stretched out in front of him. The car was dark and silent. Every step brought it clearer into focus until he was a few feet away.

He straightened, took a deep breath and holstered the pistol. From the side, nothing appeared to be wrong, but from the front he could see where the grill had met the guardrail and stopped the car with such force that both men had sailed through the windshield. One body lay mangled on the hood, the other lay draped across the pavement in front of the car. He glanced back at Evey. _She doesn't need to see this_. _Next thing_. _Is this good or bad? The next passing car will phone the police when the occupants see the wreck. We can wait here for help. Back up should be here in an hour. Maybe. Or the next passing car will contain more of Massey's men. The other car sped off. How long ago?_ He checked his watch. _A call on a mobile, they could be here any minute. In this remote place any passing car might be them_. _Massey won't give up this easily. He had half a million pounds in his hands. He will be back with reinforcements_.

_And InterPol?_ He patted his chest. His mobile was gone. _I can't call them. But I have a transponder too. Did I lose the phone in the fight or in the wreck? No time to think about that._

He looked back at Evey sitting by the side of the road. _And how far can I drag a pregnant woman in the rain? Oh God. She's in labor. _He grimaced. That detail had not sunk in until just now. _Shit shit shit._ His sharp eyes scanned the terrain. _Can't take off across country here. The ground is too steep, uneven. Slick. Under the bridge? That's the first place they would look. Unless_…he turned to the wrecked car. Dominic walked around the front, estimated damage to the engine for the impact. _Pretty serious,_ _the engine is dead._ He reached in, turned the ignition off and then tried to start the sedan. _Lost cause_._ Can I move it?_ He opened the driver's side door and put the car in neutral, then pushed on the front bumper. He rocked it back and forth until the guardrail released it, then called to Evey.

"I'm sending this car over the edge, Eve."

"Okay," was her faint reply.

_If Massey returns he will think we have escaped in this car, but InterPol will track my phone…if it's not in the river._ He reached inside, turned the wheel then with his back against the guardrail, pushed with all his strength on the front bumper, one eye on the dead man lying on the hood. He heard the crunching of the tires on the gravel then gravity took charge and swept the car down the embankment, rolling over and over to the river. He glanced up to make sure Evey was not startled by the noise. She was kneeling now, head bent to her chest. _Not too much longer now, Eve, I will be right back_. Dominic went to the bridge, searched the dead man for a phone. No phone, but he took his gun, then he picked him up and heaved him over the side to follow the car to the rushing water.

He was at her side a moment later. "Have you had any more contractions?"

"One."

"Tell me when you have another, I will time them for you." He went down on his heels and put his arms around her. The rain began to come down harder. They were both soaked, muddy and scratched from the underbrush. He took off his Mac and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Come, Eve. We are going under the bridge."

"Oh." She looked up at him with big eyes. "I am supposed to be in hospital." Dominic swallowed. For the first time that night he felt afraid.


	13. Chapter 13

Allegro 13

Rated R for language

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, DC and others.

* * *

There was a cement ledge that jutted out from the where the bridge proper left the security of the cliff and ventured out over the rushing water. Birds had used it for nesting. Other than being filthy and dark, it was a safe place to put Evey for now. She held him tightly as he climbed onto the ledge and positioned her under the bridge out of the rain. _The darkness is going to be a problem_. He stood up and looked down to the river, toward the two cars on the banks of the river. One upside down, the other half into the water, ready to be swept away. "Eve. I have to go to the car and get a light. There's a torch under the front seat, and an emergency kit, maybe my mobile."

"No. No. Don't go!" She reached for him and caught him by the knees of his trousers.

"If anything happened to you…I'd be alone here, Dom. Please." Her voice frightened him even more, and the way she said, 'please' made him sit down close to her and take her hand. She was shaking.

He spoke gently to her, calm and professional, trying to give her the impression he was in control. It was not how he felt. "We will need light. I…can't imagine…do you think the baby will come…I mean…now? From what I remember," Dominic paused. There had been a training film way back in Academy days, in emergency first aid. He tried to remember the emergency childbirth part. Some things like tying off the cord, and breathing and pushing. _I will need that kit_. He felt his guts twist. "Can you tell? Are the contractions going away?"

"No! They are not going away! They can't go away once my water breaks, Dominic. No. You are in this for keeps. We both are." She squeezed his hand hard.

"How long?" The words slipped out before he could modulate his voice. He was aware his fear was audible. _Damn it._ He cleared his throat and tried again with more confidence. "What did the doctor tell you? Your books? How long?"

"I don't know. It's not supposed to happen like this," her voice was tight. She whispered, "My doctor told me to show up in the Surgery next month, Dominic."

He moved closer to her and put his arm across her shoulders. "Oh, Evey. I am so sorry this turned out badly." He adjusted the Mac over her, pulling it closed around her neck. He took a deep breath, then another one. He looked down the ravine, wanting the torch and the emergency kit so badly. And his mobile. _Maybe the phone is down there_. "And you say the baby isn't due until next month?"

"No. Three weeks…three weeks…" Dominic remained silent, reluctant to ask more questions and upset her further. _But I need more information. How much time do I have?_

_Is she in danger?_ _Or do they just want the baby? Perry and Drs. Marveaux and Sevier_. _They want her in an operating theatre so they can take the baby and the placenta while she is under anesthesia._ _This is not the time to discuss that with her._ _Are there alternatives? _A car had not passed above them since the wreck. _No mobile_. They could not walk out. The road was not safe with Massey out there, perhaps patrolling it. Cross country was not possible for Evey_. I could leave her here and go. Maybe a few miles and there will be a farmhouse. Yes. That's it_. He decided to chance it. Evey's safety was paramount. Everything else could be negotiated. "Eve. I could go now. I could walk out. I might find a house with a phone. I could get a helicopter out here. You would be in the hands of professionals."

"No!"

"But…"

"No. Please, please." She grabbed at his arm and held tightly. He felt a stab in his heart at the sound of her voice. "Listen to me, I thought I could do it by myself. I can't…I thought it was all over. I thought I would die and the baby too. Then you came. Oh God. I saw your face. I thought I was going to die, then I saw you."

Dominic hugged her to his chest. _She is in shock. Only time will help with that_. He stroked her wet hair. She said, "Don't leave me alone. You might not come back. You might fall into a ravine, or get lost. Massey might find you, and…ugh…look at your watch." He heard her hold her breath as he turned his wrist and looked at the glowing dial of his watch: 2:25 AM.

"It's 2:25, Evey."

She didn't answer, but turned and reached for the lapels of his suit and twisted them in her fists, pressing her forehead to his chest between them. When the contraction was over she relaxed her grip and whispered, "Don't leave me."

"I won't. If this is what you want." _Even if I called the helicopter, I may lose control of the situation; she will be taken to hospital and taken from me. I will certainly not be permitted in the operating theatre to protect her_. _The_ _doctors will arrive and she will be theirs_. "I won't leave you, but I have never delivered a baby, Eve. I've never even seen it done, and I've only read a first aid manual." _She could die. They both could, she and the baby. I cannot make this decision alone. I have to tell her_. Dominic silently kissed the top of her head, knowing she could not feel his lips. "I wish I could trade places with you. I do. I am so sorry."

She said, "Stop apologizing. This isn't your fault. It's my fault. I know it. I should have stayed in London." She sounded much calmer to him now that he had promised to stay.

"No. You don't know everything, Evey. It would have been disastrous for you to stay in London. You did the right thing to leave the country. But I wish I had found you sooner. Months ago. I should have found you in January. But…" He flexed his right hand. _Those two days cost me two months._

"Because of the virus?"

"Yes."

"I am immune, "she said. "So is the baby. We would not have been in danger."

"Evey. I have something I need to tell you." He rested his cheek on the top of her head where he had kissed her. "You may have guessed that Massey has been pursuing you since December, but there is more."

"More?"

"You have been following the news about home?"

"Yes." Her voice was wary, suspicious.

_Be careful_. He continued slowly and deliberately. "Terence Perry is in charge of the government's search for a cure. I saw that he has sent you a package. He is in communication with your doctors, Evey. With Sevier and Marveaux. Finch suspects they want the baby for testing."

"Oh no…so…the planned caesarean…the hospital…" her voice faded away but she did not panic. She lay still against his chest.

Dominic closed his eyes in relief. He continued with a little more emphasis. "I wish I knew for sure. But I cannot make this decision for you and your baby. Evey, if we stay here under the bridge and risk it, I want you to know what I know. We can try to walk out, together then, so you will not be alone and while your labor is still early in the first stage. I can try to find a house and call for an ambulance or helicopter. I can have them take you to the nearest hospital, not in Marseilles, but I need you to help me decide what is best."

He gave her time to think; holding her, feeling her warm in his arms. He finally had a moment to rest, to relax, to tell himself that he had found her. _But we are not safe. Not here, not out there. Not anywhere._

"I see," she said finally. "Yes. Now that I look back on my office visits, the doctor behaved rather strangely. I thought it had to do with the genetic issues and blood type anomaly. And Perry. He was almost too eager. He wanted details about when and where I would deliver. That should not have come up in our discussions about V. He was supposed to be helping Marveaux with the amniotic studies; he should not have been so interested in the details of the delivery itself. He said he wanted to actually be there in the theatre. That bothered me at the time."

Dominic didn't have an answer for that. _Well then. Finch was right_. He spoke softly into her wet hair, "What do you want me to do, Eve?"

She was silent for several minutes, then she said firmly, "I can't do it, Dom. I can't walk far. And I don't want you to leave me. Even for a moment; something could happen to you. We are going to do this. Now. Together." Then she squeezed his arms so hard he felt her nails bite him through his suit. "Oh…shit…" she breathed after a long moment. "Oh, hell."

"What?" He smoothed back her hair from her face.

A breathless reply, "Look at your watch. Shit."

Dominic turned his wrist, "2:35."

"I think I just had a real contraction."

"A real one? The others weren't real?"

"Oh, Dominic. Uh oh." She shifted her position, pulled away from him, adjusted something. He couldn't tell in the dark.

"Are you okay?" _Stupid question_. He winced as soon as he said it.

"The contraction sent a wave of fluid down my legs. Feels funny. Feels strange." She took his hand in hers again. "Feels scary, final. Like there is no turning back and I have no control over it. I know I'm not moving from this ledge until it is over."

"Am I supposed to be doing something?"

"You are doing it." She squeezed his hand.

He leaned back against the cement, taking her with him, tucking her under his arm and resting her head against his shoulder. "Are you comfortable enough on this concrete?"

She snorted. "Comfortable. I think I would like to tell you, now, that you are not allowed to ask me if I am comfortable for, say, two days. Do we have an agreement?"

Dominic smiled sadly. "Agreed. I will try, but I might forget."

"This could go on for hours. I'm supposed to be 'resting between contractions'." Eve shifted again, obviously uncomfortable even cradled between his legs instead of sitting on the concrete.

"How will we know the baby is coming? I mean…imminently?" Dominic asked, realizing that he might not get answers to any of his questions about childbirth if he waited too long to ask them.

"Contractions will come closer together. I guess a minute apart, if I remember. When that happens you are supposed to assume a catcher's position, Dom."

He did not smile at her attempt at levity. _This could be a disaster. Women die sometimes. Not much anymore, but it happens now and then._ There was a case five years ago. A homeless woman. Police thought it was a homicide at first and called him in. One look and he thought so too. The woman was lying behind a rubbish bin in a great bloody puddle. He remembered photographing her, remembered the blinding flashes from his camera, the crime scene tape. Then he had carefully lifted her dress, thinking to find evidence of rape and murder only to discover a tiny lifeless infant between her legs. The Coroner had closed that case within hours. She had bled to death. In a way, her murderer was the man who shagged her nine months before. _Would you have done this to her, V? If you knew? _This thought brought unpleasant images to his mind and he hugged Evey tighter to his chest as she sighed against his neck. _Everything doesn't have to relate to a crime scene, does it? Is this what I have become? A detective and nothing else? _She fidgeted. He opened his knees to give her some room to move about if she wanted to._ She is tired. Of course she is. Look what the last 24 hours have been like for her._

She inhaled sharply. "Uh…this one is harder…what time is it? What time? What time? Oh bloody hell, Dom, what time? Hurry."

Dominic turned his wrist, "2:45"

He held her as she leaned back in his arms. Then she made a sound that frightened him. Not just a moan or a groan…something different. A sound he faintly remembered. _Like an animal, a trapped animal, yes. _It was when he was deerstalking in Scotland. He was fourteen, hunting with Da with a bow and quiver when he had come across a fox with its entire hind end in a poacher's trap. As he approached the dying animal, the fox had made this same sound. _Pain, fear, rage. Desperation._ _I took out my knife and put it out of its misery. That is not an option here._ Dominic moistened his lips, held tightly to the woman writhing on his lap. _Am I ready for this?_


	14. Chapter 14

Allegro

Chapter 14

Rated R for medical squick.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and others.

* * *

Evey clutched at his wrist. The green light from the dial of his watch illuminated his hand and hers. Day had come, but the storm's overcast remained and the sun barely penetrated the murk under the bridge. She could see the hairs of his arms and they bent and disappeared under the band. When she thought to look up, she could see his face bent over hers, worry wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

But she did not look up often. The dial was her beacon. She rubbed her thumb over the crystal, smearing the bead of sweat that had fallen on the clear glass. _The minute hand. There._ She watched it, tensing a little as the second hand swept closer to the twelve. When the minute hand reached the twelve it would start again. The minute hand would move, would change from the little dot next to the two, to the little dot next to that. _Almost to the three. Almost there_. It swept so swiftly. Evey frowned at it. _Slow down!_ It seemed to accelerate as it approached the twelve. She knew that couldn't be true. She knew the second hand moved at the same speed whether it was sweeping the square dial from twelve to six or six to twelve. But it seemed faster. Now it was on the eleven. Five seconds. Four. She braced herself, clutching his wrist. _Here it comes. It's coming. It will be here._

"Arhhhhh ah ah ah ah ah !" she heard the sounds as if they were coming from someone else. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" She screamed. The strong hand that had been soothing her body disappeared. All that remained was the electric spear burning her. A vise had her in its grip, squeezing her around her middle, spearing her in the lower back. The hand with the watch tried to move away too. She gripped it tighter. _Don't you dare move!_ _This_ _hand stays here! This hand doesn't move like the hand on the watch._ She peered at the watch face. The second hand was on the one. _I have done the one. It is moving toward the two. Oh, it is moving so slowly. __Already I am coming apart, and it is only halfway to the three, come three. Come. Hurry_. A spasm moved from her back around her waist and beneath her belly button. It was the same pattern every time. Like a wrench; some kind of torturous tool squeezing her and stabbing her. The second hand was on the four. _Lovely four, good four_. Evey took a breath. She tried to remember to breathe on the four the eight and the twelve. _Four Eight Twelv_e. _Here comes the six. The six is coming. It is the seven that kills. The seven is the bad number. I hate seven!_ She moaned out loud. The seven is coming; it is coming to take her. _There it is_. The second hand touched seven. The vise and the wrench came together, prying her insides apart, stretching her, pulling her, ripping at her. It was like teeth, huge jaws clamping down on the seven. _The seven eats me. It eats me_. But I can breathe on eight. _Here comes eight. As bad as seven was, eight will allow me to breathe. Hurry eight! I can't take seven any more. Fucking seven. Goddamned seven. _Evey twisted herself trying to get away from the seven. Strong arms grabbed at her and held her tightly. "Don't touch me!" she screamed. The arms released her immediately, and she grabbed for his watch hand as it released her, desperately watching the second hand tick toward the eight. _Hurry eight. Blessed eight_. Eight comes and releases the jaws. They still chew, they still pinch, but the vise is gone. _And now nine. _Evey let out her breath. _Nine is nice. And ten. Ten comes to me like a friend. And here is eleven already and twelve on its heels. The minute is over. It is over. The horrid minute is over. I have five minutes now. Five minutes. Five blissful pain-free minutes. But then it will come again._

"My back!" she reminded him. _Wasn't he watching the clock face too? Why didn't he see that the twelve meant rub-my-back? It does every time, but he still waits for me to tell him. He must be an idiot if he can't tell when to rub._ "Harder," she sobbed, "before it gets me again". Her back would break in two if he didn't rub it between contractions. If he didn't rub it, it would surely break. Four minutes left. She took a deep breath. Three minutes two minutes, one minute. _Here it comes_, "Don't touch me!" she screamed.

XXX

Dominic brought his hand up into the air as she screamed. _This hand can't touch her_. But the arm with the watch must not move. He knew this. She had trained him to remember this. He kept that arm steady, watched her as she brought her face down to the dial, her eyes inches from the crystal. He heard her counting under her breath, talking to the numbers and the second hand swept the dial with its swift circle. He readied his right hand. As soon as the last moan faded and she drew in that long breath, then he needed to put his hand on her spine, as low as possible and press. She had trained him to do that as well. He waited, listening to that keening cry he heard on the seven, waiting for it, the second hand flew past the eight to the twelve and he pressed his hand to her back. Then five minutes of rubbing. He watched the dial. She was panting. She always began to pant the last minute before the next one. He knew what it felt like to dread something that badly. Fifteen years of migraines had taught him that. The second hand approached the twelve, he stopped rubbing, pressed harder into her spine…waited for it…there…

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, and his hand went up into the air.

XXX

"Oh god, oh god." Evey gasped the words out.

"What? What is it?" Dominic pressed harder on her back.

_He thinks it's my back. It's not. _"It's NOT!" she screamed at him.

"Not what? Eve. Tell me." His voice was tired and calm but it did not soothe her. She had been robbed. Robbed of her five minutes. The second hand began its sweep of the third minute when that horrible tightening of her middle interrupted. _I have been robbed of two pain-free minutes. Here it comes, it comes._

"Oh god!" she grabbed his wrist with both hands and glared at the watch. The green face mocked her. The second hand spun to the seven and the vise gripped her harder this time. Like it thought she might escape. _I am not going anywhere! She told it. You do not have to grab me so hard!_ But it didn't listen. She felt nauseous. The eight came and she could breathe. The nine came and she could swallow. Then the ten. _It will be over soon. I will at least get my three minutes._ The eleven went by and she felt the vise relax a bit. _Almost time for him to press my back_. The twelve came, and she remembered that twelve meant she could breathe. But something was wrong. The one came and the two and still there was no relief. This contraction was lasting more than a minute. _Not fair! Cheated and robbed. And why isn't he pressing my back?_ Oh no. oh no oh no…she felt the vise tighten. It was tightening without letting her go. All her three minutes were gone. There was no pain-free moment between them. And now something was gnawing at her guts. Her vision dimmed, the watch face disappeared. She heard some man somewhere calling her name. _No men. I hate men. All men are monsters. They did this to me. A man did this. A man. V_. The grip squeezed, she heard a roaring in her ears and her belly tightened. She leaned to the side and retched. Nothing came up. She had not eaten for hours, but the retching continued, the rough sound of her desperate heaving echoed under the bridge. She could not stay sitting up, but rolled to her side. It was eating her. Something was eating her from the inside out. She could not survive this. And still she heard her name, fuzzy under the roaring sound. _The watch is not helping now. This isn't going away. There is no peak, no fading. This is different. I guess I am dying_. She heard a high pitched keening and realized she was making the sound between the spasms that threatened to spill her very guts onto the pavement. She jerked with the force of the next paroxysm. Strong arms lifted her again and set her upright. She tried to gasp for air to tell him not to touch her. _I am dying. No one can live through this. _She felt her legs tremble, then the trembling turned into shakes. She shook so hard she bit her tongue. Her jaws clenched and unclenched and she clawed at the arms that held her. She finally blurted out, "Don't touch me!"

* * *

Dominic released her when she screamed. But he hovered over her as she rolled. _Soon she will want me to rub her back. I have to be ready. _He looked at his watch, puzzled. The contraction should have been over. _This one is lasting longer._ He frowned at the green glow; Evey's cries grew louder as the second hand swept the dial in its third revolution. He tapped the crystal with a finger. Three minutes. _That can't be right_. Then suddenly there was an eerie silence. He leaned over her; unsure if this time was still "don't touch me" or if it was now "rub my back".

The look on her face had changed. Her face no longer was contorted with pain, but relaxed now. She looked at him with astonishment. He held up his hands for her to see them. Back rub? Hands off? "Eve. What do you want?" his voice sounded rough to him, a dry rasp.

"Something is different…" she whispered, her eyes large in the green glow from his watch

"Different?" Hope and fear mingled together with this one word. For eight hours they had endured the rhythm of her contractions. The long minutes of agony, the short minutes of relief. While she was preoccupied with his watch, his ears had been trained on the road above, listening for a car, for Massey…for InterPol back-up. _Nothing, No one._ A few cars had passed overhead during the early dawn, but none stopped or even slowed down. His pistol lay beside him against the wall, ready. One by one the minutes passed until dawn had broken and the cement ledge had gradually lightened. Now he could see her, haggard and broken, sitting on his Mac, her huge belly mounding up under her dress. He knew better than to touch her unless she told him to. Instead he leaned over her. "How is it different?"

"The pain is gone."

"Good. Good." He didn't know if that was good or not. His hands hovered inches over he arms, waiting for her signal that another wave of torture was about to begin. She struggled to shift position on the hard cement. He took a chance by touching her without permission and helped her to lean her back against the wall. She did not scream at him when he touched her arms.

"It feels different."

Dominic waited patiently. He had learned the rhythm, how to rub her back, where she needed a rub, where to press, when to take his hands off, how close his watch needed to be to her eyes. He had learned all this. Now something was different, but he would learn this different thing too.

"AH! It's different!" Her eyes grew big with apprehension. He hated it when she thrashed. He hated trying to hold her arms and legs when she writhed. She would scream for him not to touch her, but he feared she would go off the ledge into the river. He would be ready this time. Instead of flailing, though, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. The muscles in her neck stood out and Dominic realized she was pushing. She was absolutely silent, though her face turned red while he watched. Then she stopped and leaned back against the wall, panting. "It doesn't hurt as much," she gasped to him. "This doesn't hurt so bad. Not like before, not like the other. I can bear this."

"Good, good," he soothed. She inhaled sharply and bore down again. He looked at his watch. _Habit. To look at the watch_. _But what am I timing?_ She made squealing sounds near the end as her air ran out, then gasped loudly. Dominic was at a loss. He held his wrist to her face, but she didn't want to look at the watch. She didn't want him to rub her back. He sat back on his heels. Again she inhaled deep and pushed. Her legs started to shake and he steadied them, a hand on each knee, touching without permission.

After a moment, her face relaxed and she looked at him. "Dom. The baby is coming." She said this to him, seriously, as if the baby had not been coming for more than eight hours. He stared back at her. Dumbstruck.

"I mean, now. I mean on the next push. You have to look and see. Tell me. I have to know."

Dominic tried not to put the worry he felt into his face. Obediently, he pushed back her dress from her thighs and gently parted her knees. Her knickers had been discarded long ago. As he was about to ask her what he should be looking for, she sat up and pulled on her knees with both hands, this time he heard her make a straining sound. Between her legs a circle of black hair appeared. It grew larger and larger as he heard her cries increase in volume. Then it stopped. The circle disappeared. He opened and closed his mouth, couldn't take his eyes from that small circle. It really was happening. A baby was about to appear. Any minute. Now. He shook his head and quickly put his fingers to the buttons on his shirt. He fumbled a little with the long sleeves as Evey lay back and panted against the wall. He freed himself from the sleeves and lay the shirt over his thighs as he knelt beside her. She met his eyes with a determined look. He watched as a ripple began over her belly. He put his hand on her foot and she grabbed her knees again and pushed.

The circled appeared almost immediately, widening to the size of his palm. This time, Evey sobbed as the contraction faded. He watched her belly muscles twitch and she lay back against the wall, resting. She asked him between breaths, "How much can you see?"

"It grows to the size of my palm," he said as he held his hand up to show her by drawing a circle on his palm with his finger. "Then it recedes when you rest, but each time, it stays a little larger than the time before."

"When the head comes out, be ready. The rest will come out quickly. And he will be slippery," she warned.

"I will be ready, Eve, you just do what you have to do. I will catch him," he reassured her.

She nodded, then she took in a deep breath and grabbed her knees. Dominic held her feet again, watching. This time the circle of hair did not recede, but began to bulge. He went cold around the shoulders, stiff with anticipation. Evey cried out to him, "Ah!" just as the head emerged, turning, rotating. Dom put his hands on it, ready lest the rest of him should follow too quickly. He could see the baby's face, red and scrunched up. The baby stopped coming out as the contraction receded.

Evey lay back, breathing, taking great gulps of air. "It's out, isn't it? I can tell," she said.

"Yes. His head is out." Dominic said.

"It doesn't hurt so badly any more," she puffed.

"That's good, Eve. That's good." Dominic rested one hand on the baby's head, wrapped his shirt around his other wrist, ready for the next push.

"Here it comes. I can tell. Are you ready?" She asked him. He nodded. She grabbed her knees again and pushed; Dominic watched as first one tiny shoulder then the other slowly slid out from his mother's body. There was a shudder and a gasp from Eve before the entire baby spilled out into his arms. Dominic wrapped him in his shirt quickly as a gush of clear fluid crested over his knees followed by the blue snake of umbilicus. He held the baby tightly, wiping his nose and mouth with the tail of the shirt. A moment later the baby opened his mouth and squalled.

Evey burst into tears. Dominic shuffled himself to her side and lay the crying baby in her arms. She looked down at him, lifting the edges of the shirt to count his fingers and toes. Then she smiled and sobbed as tears dripped down her cheeks onto the tiny face. "What time is it?" she asked him. He looked at his watch.

"Eleven…five after eleven." He told her, then leaned against the wall beside her. He realized his arms and legs were trembling. He tried to steady them, but they would not be still. He felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle with every cry from the baby's throat.

She smiled proudly at him, "Look Dominic, This is my child. This is my baby. V's son." She opened her arms so he could see the wiggling baby wrapped in his shirt. "He is perfect."

Dominic swallowed and tried to open his mouth to tell her what a beautiful child she had delivered. He got as far as a choke and a rasping "Evey…" before he gave up and broke down into sobs, his face in his hands.

* * *

Evey tried to reach out to touch Dominic. But her arm would not stretch so far, and she was not going to move. _I am not moving a muscle for an hour_. She could see the green dial of Dominic's watch on his wrist as he tried to hide his tears from her. _An hour. I can have an entire hour. More even_..._as long as I want, time doesn't matter anymore. There will be no more pain. Wait…one more contraction is due. I have one more to pay_. She waited, feeling that familiar tightening of her middle. This one was gentle. She held her breath as it started at her breasts and gradually slid down her body, tightening every muscle in her body as the contraction flowed to her knees. A moment later and she felt the placenta between her thighs. Dominic was still sobbing behind his hands, a masculine baritone of gasps and moans, muffled by his strong hands. She waited. _He needs to check the placenta and cut the cord for me._ _He has to do it because I am not moving for an hour_. She waited for him. _I can wait for hours_. _God, this feels so good. No pain. Ha! I can do anything. If I can do this, I can do anything_. She waited patiently, holding her baby, looking at his squinched-up face. His tiny little nose. _Open your eyes, baby. Let me see your eyes. Will they be my eyes or his? _The baby kept his eyes tightly shut, but his mouth was open._ Crying louder than Dom. Two men in tears. _She smiled. _So happy. I am so happy_.

When she heard his deep sobs diminish, she ventured a soft word. "Dominic?" she said gently. He wiped his face with his arm before looking at her. His eyes were red, his face blotchy. He blinked at her, listening. "Dominic. You have to cut the cord for me now." She nodded toward the sheath on his leg. He pulled up his trouser leg and exposed the knife. She sighed with relief. _I can count on him. He will take care of me._

"Tell me what to do, Eve." His voice was raw from his tears, but firm and confident.

"First check the placenta. Make sure it is not torn. That it is all in one piece."

He turned incredulous eyes on her. "God, Eve. I'm a detective, not a surgeon. I don't know what it is supposed to look like." He picked up the slippery placenta with both hands. "It weighs more than the baby. God," he said again.

"Hold it up, then, and let me see." The baby had stopped crying, Eve had put his tiny mouth to her breast. She squinted to see what Dominic was holding up. The bloody placenta looked round and whole to her. _I am not a surgeon either, but I have seen a photograph. Sevier showed me one. He wants it. He wants the placenta. Perry is probably prepared to pay a mint for it._ "Turn it." He did. The long blue umbilicus snaked from within it around her knee and over her belly and into the shirt. She opened the shirt enough to expose the baby's belly. "Ok. You can put it down. Be careful with it, keep it on your coat. Am I bleeding?"

He looked down and blanched. "Yes."

"How much?"

"A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"I don't know; a pint?" He sounded like he might cry again. Evey strained to sit up a little higher so she could see past her knees.

"Is it gushing or just dribbling?"

He swallowed. She saw the muscles of his jaw and neck tighten. "Dribbling. I guess it's dribbling. But there's a lot of it. This ledge is covered, the Mac is soaked. How do you feel? What do I do? Are you light-headed?"

"Yes, I am light-headed," she laughed. The world was filed with joy. She leaned back again. "You would be too." She shifted her position against the hard concrete wall. "I am supposed to bleed. Don't worry about that anymore. As long as it is not pouring out I am fine. It is time to cut the cord, Dom. It has stopped pulsing. You must tie it off with part of your shoelace, then cut it." She watched as he pulled V's knife from the sheath. He untied his shoe and used the knife to cut one lace. Then he tied it around the baby's cord an inch from his little belly. Evey held the baby tightly as the long knife sliced the cord neatly, freeing the baby and separating him from the placenta forever.She looked up at the cement underside of the bridge, just a few feet from her face._ V? Can you see your son?_ The baby kicked his legs and squalled some more. Evey wrapped him back in the shirt and gave him a nipple to quiet him. She sighed, shifted again on the hard concrete. _You can. Thank you for giving him to me. Thank you so much._

Dominic put the knife away, then crawled over to her and lifted her shoulders so she could lean against his naked chest instead of the hard wall. He bent his head over her shoulder, touched his chin to her head. Evey leaned into him, so glad, so glad it was over. _It's over_. She sighed again, relaxed. _So happy_. _I want a hot shower. And a glass of water._ She felt herself begin fall to the side. He steadied her; the muscles of his arms bulged and rippled as he kept her from tipping over. _I have no strength left, even to sit up by myself_. His wrist was before her eyes as his arms held her. She took his wrist in her free hand and slid the watchband over his thumb and then over his long fingers until she held it in her palm. It was heavy. The green dial mocked her. The second hand was on the seven. _Ha! It is on the seven and I feel great_. She pulled her arm back then threw the watch over the ledge, listening with a happy sigh when it plopped into the river far below.

"That was my Ten-Year watch," he murmured into her hair.

"I'll buy you another one," she answered, "one with a gold dial."


	15. Chapter 15

Allegro 15

Rated PG

Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, DC and others.

* * *

Evey and the baby were sleeping. Overhead traffic had increased as the sun rose higher, but so far none of the seven cars had slowed as they approached the bridge. Dominic wished he knew what time it was. He caught himself looking at the back of his wrist. He sighed. _I must have lost the phone in the wreck. If it was in the cottage I would have heard sirens from InterPol. Maybe. _He leaned forward to see the two cars far below. He glanced at Evey and the baby. The two of them lay on his Mac, eyes closed, breathing regularly, reminding him how very very tired he was. He carefully got to his knees, gauging the distance to the river, how long it would take him to climb down, then back up. He licked his lips. _We need water. There is some in my car. And the first aid kit has a bottle of eye wash and gauze. We can wash the baby off. The emergency kit in the boot has a space blanket._ He went over the inventory in his mind, then stood. As soon as his shoe met the concrete Evey's eyes flew open. "Don't you dare leave me!" She hissed.

He was so startled he staggered against the wall. "Eve. Shit."

"I knew it. You are thinking of going down to the car." She whispered, so as not to wake the baby, but her eyes shouted at him.

"Well, I…"

"You promised."

"We can't stay here. I have to do something. Soon. I know my limits, Eve, and I can't stay awake longer than 36 hours without some decrease in functionality," he said dryly. We either need to find a protected place where I can sleep, or we need to get out of here."

Her narrowed eyes softened and her fierce glare faded to resignation. "You're right, of course," she said. "It's not like I want to be here. I'm being irrational. I'm sorry."

_I am dealing with some serious abandonment issues here. _Dominic crouched down low to look her in the eye, and said gently, "Don't worry, Eve. I won't leave you, but I have get us out of here. I have to go down. It light now and I might be able to find one of the mobiles from the wreck. You are going to have to let me go. I will never be out of your sight. Can you see the cars from where you are?"

"Yes." She pursed her lips, contrite.

"Well, then. Let me go. I think I lost my mobile in the wreck. If I had lost it in the scuffle the police would have been here by now…"_ My mobile is most likely dead if it fell in the water or was crushed. I need to look for one in the other car._

"The scuffle? Oh god. That's right. You killed six men. Jesus, Dominic."

_Seven, actually._ "I'll leave my pistol with you. Will that make you feel better?"

She thought about that, screwed up her face. "No. But you probably should. It's not like I can run away if someone should come."

He pulled the .38 from the holster under his arm and showed her the safety. "Do you know how to use one of these?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Uhm." He turned the pistol over, "you move this," he demonstrated, "then pull this back," he pantomimed, "Then aim and fire. It is simple at close range. There are three shots left." She held her free hand out for it. He gave it to her. "I'll be back in less than an hour. I wish I still had my watch."

"I don't. I never want to look at a clock again."

Dominic smiled unconvincingly, Evey gave him the same smile. "How is the baby doing?" he asked, leaning over trying to see the tiny form in the crook of her arm.

"Edmond."

"What?"

"You called him 'the baby'. His name is Edmond."

"Edmond." He indicated the bundle and she lifted the shirt tails that covered Edmond's tiny body. Dominic looked into that little nest between her arm and her breasts, his professional opinion restricted to determining if the baby was breathing or not. The little face was still scrunched up, like he was frowning, and his long black hair was matted to his scalp with waxy white goo. He was breathing; his miniature lips puckered on an invisible nipple as he slept. Dominic met Evey's eyes, "Is he supposed to look like that?"

Evey laughed. "Yes. If 'like that' you mean 'gorgeous'."

Dominic smiled at her, "He's gorgeous, Evey."

Dominic set his feet off the corner of the ledge and let himself down from the concrete to the sloping ground. He made it to the cars rather quickly, sliding in the muddy soil and using the rocks to keep him upright. He glanced up at the ledge periodically to reassure her. He lost sight of her face in the shadows under the bridge when he was halfway down, but he knew she could still see him. He waved up at the ledge when he reached the bottom.

The other car was half in the river; its rear end making eddies in the water while the front end rested precariously upon a boulder. Dominic took off his suit jacket and used it on the door to keep the glass out of his abdomen as crawled halfway in the driver's side window. He exhaled with a happy whoosh. Everything that had been in this car was strewn about the ground outside. Everything except the mobile. It was wedged firmly into the space between the two seats, invisible in the darkness last night. Dominic closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks as he reached for the small black phone. He unplugged it and flipped it up. _Fully charged._ He smiled. Quickly he punched Finch into the keypad and put the phone to his ear.

It rang only once. A strange voice answered, "Hello?"

Dominic frowned. "I am trying to reach Chief Inspector Finch," he said.

"Stone! Detective Stone! Thank God! Where are you?"

"Who is this?" Dominic sat down on a boulder.

"This is Terence Perry. It's Perry."

"Perry? Where is Finch?" He narrowed his eyes, wary now.

"He is here."

"I want to talk to him."

"He can't talk to you, Stone, he's unconscious. He…"

"What? What?" Dominic pressed the little phone harder to his ear, even though he knew squeezing the plastic would not change Perry's words.

"It's the virus, Stone. His condition is serious. He was injected with a particularly nasty form of it. I have him in a medically induced coma to reduce the swelling in his…"

"Injected? Swelling? Fucking hell, Perry. Did you…" Dominic swayed, his field of vision narrowed to a small circle of light around his left foot. He stared at the toe of his shoe trying to collect himself. _The Inspector_...

"No. No, we had nothing to do with it. He came to me three days ago, collapsed in our lobby, he knew not to go to hospital. We have him here in the lab."

"Why isn't he in hospital?"

"Well, after what happened to Mr. Dascombe…"

"Oh God. What happened to Dascombe?" Dominic felt those hours of missing sleep. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on Perry's words. _What is going on at home?_

"I'm sorry. Let me fill you in, Detective. Mr. Dascombe was shot and killed by Special Forces in Jordon Tower last week. He had broadcast a segment on the virus and implicated Sutler's government in its creation." Perry paused mercifully for Dominic to absorb that information before he continued, "The country was immediately put on alert. Wilson placed a lockdown on all businesses and government offices and a curfew until further notice. But before the day was out General Akroyd and his men stormed Wilson's office building. Wilson shot himself."

"Who's in charge? Akroyd? Was that a coup?"

"No. No coup. Akroyd said on the telly that there would be no more Military Rule in Britain. He gave a very emotional speech. He quoted Churchill and Shakespeare's St. Crispian. He reminded everyone about the Magna Carta and the history of cooperative government. Right now local MPs are administering their districts. After his speech a crowd formed outside of Buckingham Palace demanding that the Queen show herself. She did and they cheered her. Akroyd had her make a statement on the emergency channel and there is no more rioting, but the situation is tense. The people demand daily updates on the search for a cure. The Queen ordered that government stashes of food and water and beer be distributed free of charge. That can only keep the peace until it runs out. We have to find a cure, or at least report real progress before that happens. We hope to have something to report in the next three weeks."

Dominic glanced up at the ledge. "Yes. Sooner than that, Perry. I intercepted the package you sent to Mrs. Abernathy."

Now it was London's turn to be silent. Dominic gave Perry the same courtesy and waited for him to recover. Perry's voice returned, his tone completely different now, subdued and worried. "Did you read the documents?"

"No. But I know what is in the package."

"Then you know we need her baby's placenta for the stem cells."

"I know," Dominic said carefully. "Tell me, Perry. How long will the cells remain viable under room temperature conditions?"

"Oh no, oh no!" Perry's voice became frantic, "Tell me it's not true! Detective Stone, has she delivered? Is she not in a hospital? Oh God…" His voice faded away and Dominic imagined the phone being lowered away from Perry's face. He could still hear heavy breathing on the other end.

"Answer me, Perry." Dominic said.

"48 hours, Detective, but that is on ice. Please tell me she is in hospital." The last sentence ended with a sob.

Dominic answered, "The placenta is about two hours old now, Perry. I will get it to you if I can."

"Hold on, Detective." There was a long silence at the other end. Dominic looked up at the ledge and waved again. He saw a hand wave back. Perry returned to the phone. "I am sending a jet from the Paris embassy to the Marseilles airport. She is still in Marseilles? And the baby? Born alive?"

Dominic frowned. "It's the placenta I promised, Perry. Not Mrs. Abernathy or her child."

"She can come back. She will be safe here."

"I don't think so, Perry. You can send the plane for the placenta, but that is the only part of Mrs. Abernathy you will see."

"That is good enough if I can get it within twenty-four hours. Put it on ice right away, Detective."

"Can't do that, but I will get it to the airport as fast as I can. Tell me about Finch."

"He needs those stem cells. We can inject them into his bone marrow and see if they will begin producing antibodies to this virus. Without them I give him six weeks. We won't be able to overcome the organ damage after that. We can culture more stems cells for the other victims if enough viable ones are found."

"I'll do my best."

"Give me your number."

"I don't have one. I will call you on that mobile. Good-bye." Dominic pressed "end", then immediately dialed the Paris Embassy. "Tandy please." He waited.

Tandy's voice cam out of the mobile's speaker. "Tandy."

"Tandy, this is Stone. Perry says he is sending a jet to Marseilles. Is that true?"

"Stone! Where have you been? I've been ringing you for hours! It the Chief Inspector, he's…"

"I know. I've been briefed. Tell me about the plane."

"Yes. He made arrangements with the ambassador, I was just now informed. There will be a plane at the Marseilles airport in an hour."

"I need a car."

"Where are you?"

"North of Marseilles, about an hour on Motorway 363. Marker 23. Send Johnson with a car. No one else. I mean it. That's an order."

"Of course, Detective."

"Tell Johnson I need water, blankets and an ice chest. Have him fill it with ice."

"Yes, sir." He'll be there in an hour."

Dominic ended the call and put the phone in his trouser pocket. His jacket was now too full of glass to put back on. He slid his way down to his car which lay upside down on the bank. The boot was jammed shut, no way to get to the first aid or the emergency kits without a crowbar. He scanned the ground looking for any useful flotsam or jetsam from the wrecks, looking for his bottled water. Nothing. He turned his eyes upward toward the road and the bridge. _Now I have to make that climb._ He heard a faint cry. The baby. The sound gave him strength. He grabbed a bush and pulled himself up, then another bush, then a stone. He made his way up the ravine.

When he got to the ledge the baby was awake and nursing, and Evey had a pained look on her face. She handed him back his pistol. "Dom, this hurts worse than the labor."

"No…" he raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"God, he has my nipple in a hot tong. Reminds me of pictures in V's books about the Inquisition." She managed a wry smile.

Dominic gave her a sideways look as he lifted the edge of his Mac to expose the placenta which lay next to her foot. "Surely you exaggerate," he said as he examined it. It was round and thick and bloody, like a piece of raw meat. It had a thin pale membrane attached to it and at least half a meter of blue umbilicus coiled on top. It looked like it weighed at least a stone. _How to carry this thing? _He rolled it in the edge of the Mac, then turned to Evey. "Get ready to climb out of here, Eve, we are about to be rescued."

Johnson was gracious enough to remain silent as he held the car's door open for Evey and the baby to climb into the back seat. He met Dominic's warning eyes before the Detective followed her into the car. The door closed and Johnson climbed in and pulled into the road and over the bridge. "Where to, Sir?"

"To your office."

"Yes, sir."

Dominic was aware that Johnson was glancing at them in the rearview mirror as he packed the placenta in the ice chest. He tucked the blankets around Evey and the baby and handed her a bottle of water. "Keep quiet, Eve," he warned under his breath. She nodded to him, gesturing toward Johnson with her eyes. He nodded in return, shrugging a blanket over his shoulders. _Stay awake._

It was Sunday. The streets of Marseilles were nearly deserted this late in the afternoon, the dinner hour. Johnson pulled up in front of the office building and turned around to face them over the seat. "We're here, Detective."

"Thank you, Johnson." Dominic opened his door and climbed out, then held Johnson's door open. "Please get out. I will be back to file my report tomorrow. Please understand the events of the last three days are coded yellow."

Johnson's brow furrowed, but he understood. "Yes, Sir."

Dominic climbed into the driver's seat and turned the car toward his flat. Ten minutes later he was parked on the curb before a two-room rental on the top floor of an old house. He helped Evey out and bundled her quickly up the outside staircase and through his front room into his bedroom. "You are safe here at least for a few hours. Right now the only danger I see is from Massey and he would not dare look for you here. I am leaving the pistol with you and…"

"You're leaving me? Again?" She sat down on the edge of his bed, her face incredulous, the baby clutched tightly against her breasts under the blanket.

He answered her as he reached for a fresh shirt out of his closet and yanked at his belt, kicking off his shoes. "I have to get the placenta to the airport, Eve. You need a shower and some food. Wash the baby in the sink, use tea towels for diapers. You can wear one of my shirts. I will bring you back some real diapers and some clothing. Do not use the phone." He dropped his trousers and tugged a fresh pair from a hanger, hopping on one foot as he pulled them on. "I will be gone three hours at the most. There is food in the fridge, Evey. I want you to eat something then get in bed with the baby and sleep." He slid the belt through the loops and his fingers started on the buttons.

"You're leaving?"

He stopped tucking in his shirt and went to her, kneeling on the floor by the bed. He put his hands on her knees. "Eve. I am coming back. I promise."

Her lower lip began to tremble and the baby started to cry. Dominic realized this would not be as simple as what he had planned out in his mind. _Mood swings are normal. This is supposed to happen._ He frowned, trying to remember. Something about hormone levels adjusting themselves. _If I had known she was this close to her due date I would have been reading about childbirth, not old police reports_. "I have to get the placenta to Perry. The Lab will use it to cure the sick people, Eve. Do you understand? Tell me you understand."

She nodded, but big tears welled up and spilled over her cheeks. Dominic squeezed her knee. "I can call my landlady up to help you. Do you want me to do that?"

Her voice was thick with tears. "No. I don't want any strangers around me."

_That's understandable._ "Then I have to leave you alone. Just while I go to the airport and then to the shops. I am coming back, Evey. I'm not leaving you for long. Lock the door, keep the pistol by the bed and try to keep the baby happy." He pointed to her breasts. "If you want privacy, you can't let the landlady hear a baby crying in a bachelor's flat." He turned one corner of his mouth up in crooked smile. "Right?"

She nodded, then wiped her eyes with one hand as she dropped the blanket and put the baby to her breast. He quieted immediately. Dominic got to his feet. "See? If you are too tired, just go to bed. You can wash up later." He grabbed a suit jacket out of the closet and put his arms through it. "I'll be right back." He slid his feet into fresh loafers and put his hand on the door. "I'm coming back," he said to her.

At the airport the jet was waiting. _Good. This will be quick and painless and I can get back to Evey fairly quickly. _He was worried she wouldn't eat if he weren't there to remind her. _And this anxiety she is exhibiting…_Dominic pulled the car through French security at the private airport, showing them his badge and passport again…_she has probably been suffering since the fifth_. _Hell, V. You left her. You just left her alone…and pregnant. Didn't you think? What were you thinking? Why didn't you plan for this?_ He drove the car as close to the jet as he could. He stopped and pulled hard on the parking brake, thinking. _He did plan for this. He gave her to me. He told me himself_. Dominic ground his teeth together. _This is almost over, and I won't leave her._ He got out of the car and opened the back door to reach for the ice chest.

He heard a loud crack then a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head. Dominic felt himself falling to the pavement in slow motion; the tarmac seemed to rise up to meet his face. _No!_ He grabbed at the car, slowing his descent with his arms and turned himself around, his back against the door panel. He slid down the side of the car as his knees betrayed him. _Tandy._ Then the world went dark.


	16. Chapter 16

Allegro 16

Rated PG

Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and Others

* * *

She wandered into the kitchen while Edmond slept between two pillows on Dominic's bed. _I am_ _hungry. He told me to eat and I forgot_. _Now I feel I could empty his pantry._ She opened his fridge. _You can tell a lot about a man by what he keeps in his fridge. No beer or wine. Nothing actually. Some clotted cream and four kinds of jams and jellies. No, six kinds. Wait. Eight jam jars?_ Evey blinked. _He can't expect me to eat just jam._ She closed the fridge and opened the freezer. _Ah. That explains it._ The freezer was packed with microwave dinners. She ran her finger down the boxes. _It looks like he just reached in the freezer case at the grocer's and pulled out a stack without looking at the contents._ She tugged three of them out and set them on the counter. Next to the frozen dinners the freezer was stuffed with plastic bags and twist ties. Curious, Evey yanked at one and tried to see through the frosty plastic. _These look like crumpets. And these…scones. And baguettes and different kinds of breads._ She felt herself begin to smile. _Aha_.

She closed the freezer and turned to the cooker. An elaborate tea kettle rested on the back burner, glorious in its shiny brushed aluminum. A little metal bird, poised to sing, was attached to the spout. She brought it closer to her eyes so she could see the little hinged wings. When the water boiled the little bird would whistle and the wings would flap. She laughed out loud. _I see. Let me guess. This cupboard_…she opened the overhead cupboard next to the cooker and snorted. The cupboard was packed end to end on three full shelves with tea. Every kind of tea: green tea, black tea, white tea, pekoe, herbs, spiced, everything. He had them arranged first by category, then alphabetized. All the Asian teas were on one shelf: Chrysanthemum, Jasmine, seven kinds of green…it went on and on. Then another shelf for his Indian ones, _he loves the Chai, look at that. Six different kinds._ And then the English teas on the bottom. He had loose teas, strainers, rock candy swizzle sticks and individual packets. _This man loves his tea._ Three teapots were nestled on the shelves as well. An iron tetsubin, a fancy painted porcelain one with a long spout, and an elegant white one. Evey took down the white one and filled the kettle. _I will try one of the caffeine-free herbals._ She took down a few packets of the chamomile, and then put the frozen dinners in the microwave.

She turned around and leaned back on the counter while she waited. His little kitchen table was by the window. It was piled with paper, binders, books, and folders. There was a tiny little space cleared on the surface directly in front of the single chair. Evey imagined him sitting there, fork in one hand, frozen dinner in the cleared space, the other hand holding up some kind of report. _He probably doesn't know what he is eating_. She stepped over and looked at the papers. _Crime reports._ She pushed them around absently. _That's a lot of work_. The kettle whistled. She turned back to take it off the burner, and watched the tiny wings of the little bird flutter while he sang that her tea would soon be ready.

_He'll be back soon. I'll wash my dress, take a shower…when Edmond wakes up _

_I will wash him too. Then I will sleep_.

XXX

Evey woke up in the dark. The baby slept peacefully in the crook of her arm. She used her other arm to turn on the bedside lamp. _Yes. There he is, little Edmond. Sleeping_. She bent down to kiss his head, inhaling his baby smell with a happy sigh. He had squalled all through his bath in the sink, and she had been terrified lest the landlady come thumping up the stairs and bang on the door. _But nothing happened_. Evey had heard the landlady's telly on all day. _That noise will help_. She had examined every inch of her baby, from his fingertips to his toes. He seemed perfectly normal. His lungs were certainly healthy. Part of her longed to take him to a physician and get a professional opinion, but a much stronger part of her was determined that no one would ever touch him but her. _This is V_. She looked down at him now. She kissed him again and almost woke him The last two letters in the satchel had been about the baby. On the outside of the fourth one was written, "Don't read this until the baby has come" and the fifth one said, "Read this one to my child". _Soon I will have them in my hands. As soon as Dominic gets back. When I read them I am with you. I miss you so much._

Her own hot shower had been delicious. She wiggled her toes under the sheets_. Maybe I can have another one now_. She was still in Dominic's bathrobe, a hand towel pressed between her legs to protect his clean sheets from the aftereffects of becoming a mother. _Dominic. Isn't he supposed to be back? Why didn't he turn on the lights when he came in?_ She lifted her head from the pillow so she could see through the door into the front room. It was dark and silent. _Maybe he is asleep on the sofa. _

Evey slid her arm out from beneath the baby and walked to the door. _No. The sofa is empty. What time is it?_ She glanced back at the bedside digital clock. Four_. Four in the morning? Or afternoon? No, it is too dark to be the afternoon. What day is it?_ She flipped on the house lights and walked over to the telly. It was a small monitor in the corner of the room, she was not surprised to find it covered in dust. Even the remote control had a fine layer of dust on the keys. The telly popped on and she flipped the channels to the 24-hour news channel. The Newsreader babbled on in French while Evey read the time and date and weather at the bottom of the screen. _It's Tuesday. Tuesday?_

_Didn't we get here on a Sunday?_ She frowned, muted the volume. _I slept for an entire day? _A nagging fear started curling at the corner of her mind. _He left me. No. He wouldn't leave me. He promised. It would make no sense. Something important has come up. Yes. That's it. _She returned to the bedroom and changed the baby, fed him, took another shower. Dominic still had not returned. She paced the bedroom in the bathrobe, thinking of her hotel room. _All my stuff is there. I could call a cab…no! No more cabs!_ She sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking. _He told me not to use the phone. Why hasn't he called?_ She looked at the bedside phone.

As soon as she had the thought, the phone buzzed loudly, making the baby startle. She snatched the phone and pressed the button, "Dominic?" she breathed.

"Mrs. Abernathy?" an incredulous male voice answered.

"Mr. Perry!" Evey's eyes widened.

"Mrs. Abernathy! Do you know where Detective Stone is? He was supposed to send me the placenta. The jet is still in Marseilles!" Perry sounded frightened.

Evey tried to calm herself. _Dominic._ She tried to steady her hand against her ear. _Something terrible has happened to him._ "Mr. Stone is not at home, Mr. Perry," she said in a shaky voice, "would you like to leave a message?"

"No! I want to speak to the Detective. Is he there? This is important!"

Evey was silent. She heard Perry breathing far away in London. _I don't know where he is. What if he's dead? What if Massey got him? _Her hand went cold and she dropped the phone. It bounced once on the carpet. _He is dead and I am alone. They could be coming for me and Edmond next._ She heard a click at the front door. She heard the sound of the door being opened.

Her eyes darted to the lamp table. _Dominic's gun._ She picked it up; it was heavy. She released the safety and pulled back the top like he showed her to set a slug into the chamber. It made a clicking sound as it snapped back.

There was sudden silence from the front room, then she heard the exact same clicking sound. She aimed the short barrel at the doorway at about the height she remembered Massey to be. _I am surprised I am so calm_. She closed one eye and put her finger over the trigger. She saw the end of the barrel of a pistol emerge two inches from the door jam. She pointed hers where the intruder's head should appear.

"No!" she heard a gasping voice in the other room. "Put it away, Johnson." The barrel disappeared from the doorway, but Evey did not lower her weapon. The voice called out to her weakly. "Eve. Put the gun down. It's me." Evey hesitated, then glanced down at Edmond, still sleeping in a little bundle of blankets between the pillows. She slid first one leg then the other off the bed and carefully made her way, gun extended in front of her, to the doorway. _It might be Dominic. Maybe._

She stopped at the door and pressed her body against the wall as she called out softly, "Dominic?"

"Evey. Please. It's me."

"Show me. Come through the door."

She listened, waiting. She heard a scraping sound, then a thump, some heavy breathing. He did not appear at the door. Evey extended the barrel toward the doorway again.

What might have been Dominic's voice said, "I can't." It was almost too faint to hear.

Then Johnson spoke up, louder and stronger. "He can't, Miss Hammond. Put the gun away and come out."

Evey grit her teeth. _It could be a trick. _She heard a low moan and that same scraping sound again. Something inside her told her it was not a trick. She lowered the gun and set the safety. She put her hand on the door jam and stepped through. The sun had come up and in the yellow light that streamed through the windows she saw Agent Johnson kneeling, bent over a man lying on his side on the floor. Johnson looked up when she stepped into the room.

"Miss Hammond."

"Dominic?" Evey joined him on the floor; she set the gun down by the sofa. Dominic had both hands pressed over his face, his hair tangled in his fingers. "It's a migraine, isn't it?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Johnson answered. "He is not supposed to be gone from hospital."

"Hospital?"

"He called me this morning to pick him up. The nurses tried to stop him from leaving. Look." Johnson indicated a shaved spot and some stitches on the back of Dominic's head and neck. "I was called to hospital Sunday night. He was attacked at the airport. French security took him in."

"Oh no. The placenta."

"The what?"

Evey ignored him, reached out and carefully pulled Dominic's hand from his face. "Dominic?" His eyes were tightly shut and his mouth was a thin line. He was very pale but for the dark stubble on his cheeks and neck. Evey lay down on the floor, forcing Johnson to move out of the way. She brought her face within inches of his and spoke as softly as she could. "Dominic. Where is the placenta?"

One eye opened briefly then squeezed shut. He groaned. "Tandy…"

Evey didn't understand him, but Johnson hovered closer. "James Tandy? Our man in  
Paris?" He asked loudly.

Evey shushed him with a fierce whisper. "Quiet, Mr. Johnson, haven't you ever had a migraine?" She gave him a glare before turning back to the Detective. Evey put her cool hand on Dominic's forehead and smoothed the long hair back over his head so she could see his eyes. "Perry doesn't have it," she murmured.

Dominic winced. Evey turned her ear to his mouth to hear the words that barely lisped out. "Tandy took it," he breathed.

She got to her feet and took Johnson by the elbow, steered him away from Dominic and toward the front door. "It looks like your man in Paris has turned traitor, Detective Johnson. I suggest you try to find him."

Johnson looked from Evey to Dominic then back at her. "This placenta…is that what was in the ice chest?"

"Yes," she answered. "The National Laboratory needs it right away. He was trying to get it to the plane when Tandy took it from him."

"What? Who else would want it?" Johnson rubbed his face.

"Plenty…" They both turned to see Dominic struggle to sit up.

Evey went to him and held him down. "Lie back. Let Johnson do this."

"No. We have no time." He sucked in air through his teeth with a grimace. "The Inspector…"

Johnson spoke to him. "Mr. Stone, I can make inquiries. Please stay here, at least for a few hours. I'll be back in the afternoon. You'll be better then."

Evey agreed. "Stay here, Dom. Let Johnson go and get the information for you. I'll stay with you while you wait this migraine out, then we can all go together. I need to get to my hotel. Please. Tell me you will. God, Dominic, give yourself a few hours."

"Ha…" it was more a sigh than an agreement, and Evey knew better than to expect him to nod his head. She turned to Johnson. "I will stay with him. Please hurry."

"I'll be back as soon as I have the information we need." Johnson slipped on a pair of sunglasses and disappeared through the door.

Evey tried to lift Dominic under his arms. "Let me put you to bed," she said to him.

"No." He fell back to the floor. "Just bring me a blanket. I can't move."

She obeyed, bringing back a blanket from the bed. She covered him up, wondering if a pillow would help. "Two days without your blue pills. That's what did it, isn't it. And that bump on your head. That didn't help any." She stroked his back as he lay curled around himself. "If I bring you the pills now will they help?"

"'s" he said.

Evey took that as a 'yes' and went to his bathroom cabinet and brought him his pills. She slipped one between his lips, knowing he would not sit up to drink any water. She sat on the floor next to him, her hand on his hip. "I knew you didn't leave me," she whispered. His arm moved under the blanket, his hand emerged from under the wool, then he lightly touched her ankle with two fingers.

* * *

Johnson returned as promised. The later afternoon sun threw a long pillar of light across the front room, but now Dominic was sitting on the sofa, an ice pack to his neck. Evey had changed back into her dress, now clean and dry, and Baby Edmond blinked at both of them from his pillow on the floor.

"I was able to speak to Perry in London, Detective," Johnson flipped over his notepad. "The Lab got a ransom email last night. It seems two French physicians are withholding the placenta and demanding ten million pounds. "

"Do you know their names?" Evey asked, pacing back and forth. She thought she might.

"No, but the techies have traced the url to a computer in a genetics lab that is run by a Dr. Marveaux. Of course he is not there today, and cannot be reached on his mobile," Johnson finished dryly.

Evey said, "Marveaux. He was the geneticist in charge of my case, Detective. He was working with Dr. Sevier. I suspect they are the two men you want."

Dominic spoke up. "How did Perry know it was two physicians?"

"The ransom note said that the placenta was being stored properly in liquid nitrogen." Johnson read from his notepad, "and the terminology used the throughout the message was medically precise and included references to equipment and procedures only physicians and other scientists would use. The other thing is that Tandy never showed up at the office yesterday, and didn't call in. It's pretty clear what happened."

"And the cottage on Motorway 323? What are the French saying about that?" Dominic moved the ice pack to his forehead as he looked up at Johnson.

"All the dead men are British nationals. The case is being turned over to Paris. The Ambassador is demanding a report from you, sir."

"No doubt," Dominic sighed. He moved the ice pack down to cover his face. "Bloody Hell."

"Can I go to the hotel now?" Evey looked hopefully at Johnson.

Johnson looked at Dominic. "Can she?"

The ice pack slid off Dominic's face and onto his knee. "Yes. The French have been alerted to Mrs. Abernathy's situation?"

"Of course. Yes." Johnson turned a page in his notebook. "There are two policemen outside her room now."

"Then we can go. You want to check out, Eve? Or do you want to stay there?"

"I just need to get my things. I don't want to stay there anymore." She stood in front of him. "Can I stay here? I don't want you to be here alone…your head…" She indicated the ice pack.

Dominic looked up at her sharply, then winced. Evey blushed, realizing how suddenly the tables had turned, how swiftly she had gone from helpless to protective. "I really like your tea," she said quickly. "They don't have such nice tea at the Bompard."

* * *

At the Bompard the policemen unlocked the door for them. Evey blew into the room and set Edmond on the huge bed, then immediately went into the closet for her satchel. _I have been away from it too long._ Her fingers and hands actually ached to hold it, the same feeling they had when she heard Edmond cry. She swept back the hangers of clothes and coats in the closet and bent down to reach for the handles, to take V into her arms.

The satchel was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Allegro 17

Rated PG

Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, DC and others.

* * *

Dominic and Johnson waited while Evey went into her closet to get her luggage. Dominic programmed his new phone, Johnson walked around the suite, detective eyes on everything, glancing through the curtains at the street outside. The two French policemen stood on either side of the door.

Dominic leaned heavily against the wall as the first scream pierced his head. The two policemen rushed past him into the hotel room and Johnson moved quickly to pick up the baby. Dominic lurched toward the closet, nearly blind from the pain. The sounds of Evey's screams were palpable behind his eyes. He reached the closet and clutched the door frame as articles of clothing whipped past his face. Coats flew into the air, skirts and blouses fluttered to the ground, shoes whisked by him like an explosion in a boutique, and still the shrill shrieks assaulted his ears and pounded him like fists.

"Evey," he breathed, knowing she could hear nothing. The two policemen looked at each other, then one of them picked up his mobile and moved into the hall. Dominic glanced at Johnson, who held the baby over his shoulder, one hand on Edmond's bottom; the other on the baby's back as though he knew what he was doing. Then he looked to the hallway where hotel staff had already responded to the noise. Edmond's cries joined the din. Dominic told himself to breathe. He told his knees to stay strong, his eyes to stay open. The screaming stopped suddenly and everyone in the room froze; their eyes on the closet door as Evey emerged… staggering, her eyes stricken. She looked first at Johnson, then turned those haunted eyes on Dominic.

"It's gone…" she choked out. "He's gone."

"What is gone?" He asked gently.

She looked away. "V."

Dominic thought a moment before repeating his question. "Tell me what is gone, Evey."

"My satchel. It's gone. It's gone." She looked up at him just before she began to lean to the side, her eyelids fluttering. He caught her in his arms before she could hit the carpet and carried her to the bed and laid her out. Her eyes were open, staring straight up at the ceiling and she began to hyperventilate. One of the Policemen spoke to him in English.

"I have called a doctor."

Johnson stepped closer to the bed and looked down at Evey. "She looks like she is going to pass out, Mr. Stone."

Dominic sat beside her on the bed and took her hand in his. She blinked several times, her pupils constricted to pinpoints. "Eve. Tell me what was in the satchel."

Her mouth moved. "V." Tears well out of the corners of her eyes and dripped past her ears.

Dominic sighed, then he turned to the French police. "A piece of Mrs. Abernathy's luggage has been stolen. I suggest that you confiscate the appropriate security camera logs and collect the staff for questioning." He stared hard at the police until both of them left the room. "Johnson. Put the baby down. I need you to follow up with this…make sure you get the staff schedule for the past week and intercept the doctor. Mrs. Abernathy doesn't need a doctor and I don't want one in here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Detective. Do you want me to call Paris?" Johnson lay Edmond down on the bed beside Evey.

"No. We do not know if the theft is a coincidence or something more ominous. We won't know until she tells me what was in it." Johnson nodded once then went out the door, closing it behind him. The only sounds were Edmond's tiny whimpers and the rough sound of Evey's rapid breathing. Dominic leaned over her again. "Eve. Tell me exactly what was in the satchel. Item by item."

She squeezed a few more tears out of her eyes. Dominic rubbed her hand in both of his and asked her again. "What was in the satchel?"

"His… mask." She breathed in and out with little gasps.

"And?"

"His wig… his gloves."

There was a long silence. Dominic prompted her to continue. "Was that all?"

Her voice was rough. "And his... letters. All of them. All gone."

Dominic tried again. "Is that everything, Eve? No Jewelry? Cash? Papers? Legal documents? Are you certain that is all?"

"Evey?" He reached over her and took her chin in his hand and turned her face to him. "Was there nothing valuable inside?"

That elicited a heated response. "There was nothing in there that was worth anything to anyone, but it was worth the world to me," she snapped.

_There has to have been something else in that satchel_. "Evey. What else? Who knew the satchel was here?"

She stared at him, her eyes hard. "You will get it back? You will, won't you? Tell me you will." She reached a hand out and grabbed his shirt. "Get it for me."

He pried her little fist from his clothes. "I will. But first you have to tell me everything."

"What? I will tell you anything you need to know."

"You have to calm yourself if you are going to remember. Please try."

He waited, watching her pull herself together. "Now. Who knew the satchel was here?"

She mumbled, "The staff, I guess."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"And all that was in it were V's personal effects…and his letters?" Evey took a deep shuddering breath. Dominic prompted her again. "Go through each part of the satchel in your mind and tell me everything."

He saw her face change. Her eyes widened as she said, "The comlink."

He frowned. "The what?"

"The comlink was in it too."

"Is that like a flash drive or something?"

"Yes. A portable control for the Shadow Gallery's computers."

"God, Eve. That's what they wanted. Who knew it was there?"

"No one! I never told anyone! No one ever searched the bag! I was the only one who carried it!"

Dominic covered his eyes with his hand, thinking. Someone came into her room. Not looking for money or jewels. Took the whole satchel, not just the comlink. _No. Someone had to know the comlink was there_. "Eve. Someone knew it was there. Who did you tell?"

"I swear, I told no one. No one."

"In the cottage. Massey asked you for the codes, didn't he?"

"What?" she snapped, "Do you think I told him?" She bared her teeth at him.

Dominic continued delicately "Interrogators gather information in more ways than one. You _did_ tell him. Let me ask you, Evey, and I want you to think hard before you answer. When he asked you for the codes, and told you he was looking for a flash drive or a comlink, how did you _feel_?"

She glared at him for a long moment. He saw her remembering, then her face softened and paled. "Ah!" Evey looked like she had been struck.

Dominic closed his eyes. "He saw it in your face, Eve. You didn't have to say a word. Then all he had to do was bribe an employee of the hotel. A year's salary will buy just about anything. Massey has your satchel." _Now to find Massey._

He took his new phone out of his vest pocket, dialed Johnson. "Massey has the satchel, Johnson. He probably had it by late Sunday night. We need to get the plate number off the wrecked car and trace it. Find out any other addresses of where any of Massey's men were staying in Marseilles. Do that, and then come get me at my flat. I'm taking Evey home, then we have work to do."

* * *

Dominic called Perry. The little mobile was pressed against one ear while the ice pack rested above his other one. The migraine was gone, but his head ached continually. Johnson was out following leads on the satchel. Dominic was confident he would be successful. There was no reason for Massey to hang on to Evey's letters or V's bits of costume. He would have taken the comlink and gone to London. _I will track him down later. Now I must find the placenta_.

"Perry."

"Mr. Perry. This is Detective Sergeant Stone."

"Stone. Any luck?"

"Not yet. I believe both Drs. Marveaux and Sevier have left the country. The ransom is to be paid to a bank in Geneva, no?"

"That is correct. Akroyd and the Queen are working on collecting the money. They are having trouble as many foreign banks have frozen British asserts and the British banks are insolvent."

"And the Inspector?" Dominic squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.

"No change, Detective. His is in serious condition. His kidneys are damaged. We have him on a machine. His liver is failing. He needs those stem cells, as do all of the patients."

"InterPol has ten men on the placenta case, searching all the labs in Europe where it might be stored. There are a fair amount of labs. The new popularity of cloning and genetic selection has created a great many places where the placenta could be housed."

"How is Mrs. Abernathy?"

"She is fine, thank you."

"And the baby?

"Also doing very well."

"You know, Mr., Stone. The baby's blood most likely carries a signature that we can use to analyze the virus and perhaps…"

"Absolutely not, Perry. Put that thought out of your mind."

"We wouldn't need a lot, Stone. A vial. That is all."

Dominic hung up the phone, tapped the table. Evey coughed from the doorway to let him know she was there. She had been listening from his bedroom.

"They want Edmond, don't they." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm not giving them your baby, Evey."

"No, you're not."

"No. I won't give them your baby. Why won't you believe me?"

"I don't believe anyone anymore." She turned and went back into the bedroom.

Dominic breathed in and out, waiting for the pain in his head to subside. The doctors said it would be like that for as long as a month while he healed. He cursed Tandy again as he tucked two more tablets into his mouth and swallowed them with a mouthful of decaf tea. _And they said no caffeine for that month_; he eyed his tea kettle. _That hurts worse._

_The Inspector_. Dominic slumped over his table, waiting for the tablets to kick in. _Always before, I could help him when he needed it. I mowed his garden when he broke his ankle that time jumping out of a moving omnibus. I took Paul to football practice and brought home groceries for Cynthia. I fixed the brakes on his car when he threw his back out on the Hennessey case._ Dominic pushed at the paper on his table. _But I can't do anything for him now. Like I couldn't do anything for him when Cyn and Paul died._ Another wave made him attempt to stagger blindly in the general direction of the fridge. _Maybe one of the ice packs._ He tripped on the leg of the table knocking reports to the floor as he stood up. His chair fell over with a bang. He did not make it as far as the freezer before small hands on his waist were leading him away from the kitchen. Cool fingers pressed an ice pack to the back of his head.

"Time to take a break, Detective," she said in a soft voice as she took him into the bedroom.

"They want ten million pounds for the placenta," he told her.

She pulled the blankets back and sat him down on the bed. "I have ten million pounds…I think."

He lay down on the pillow and adjusted the ice pack on his forehead. "God, Eve. I had no idea."

"Do you want me to call my banker? He will tell me."

"When Massey takes the comlink to London they will open up the Shadow Gallery and gut it." Dominic closed his eyes. "That's where they will get the money. I warned the Nose he was coming. They will crack the Gallery and loot it."

Evey covered him with the blanket and sat down beside him. "We can save both the art and the people if I can get to V's money."

"No, they will loot the art no matter what," he sighed. "There is no one to speak for the National Gallery or the British Museum. This is what Chaos does to Civilization. He didn't think about that, did he."

"Yes, he did." Evey looked down at her hands in her lap. "He was bitter. And he was terribly terribly angry. There were two sides to him, Dominic. He wasn't perfect. One part loved humanity and one part despised us all. That's why the art is down there in the first place. He knew he would be making the rubble bounce, so he tried to save what he could. It's my fault this happened. I was supposed to stay there and take care of the Gallery. That's why he took me in and kept me there. But I ran away. I let him down."

Dominic lifted the ice pack from his forehead so he could see her. She wrung her hands. He touched her arm. "I will get your satchel back for you, Eve."

She kept her face impassive. "Let's get the placenta first. Let me call my banker."

"Call him."

* * *

Dominic was sleeping; the powerful drugs Johnson had picked up at the chemist's seemed to work extraordinarily well. He dreamed about bloody placentas and canvas satchels filled with posts. He dreamed of tea and fancy cakes with colorful frosted tops and little crunchy toffees. Then he dreamed of bangers and mash and boiled puddings and the Black and Tans he loved to drink at the Fox and Hound. Then Finch came, dragging a trolley full of reports. The Inspector gave him a pen with most of the ink gone and a broken nib and told him he wanted them all done by tomorrow morning, collated and filed in triplicate. Dominic sat on the floor and picked up the first report. The words swam together as he struggled to read it: "The Case of the Missing Satchel." He lifted the pen and tried to write, but the nib merely scratched the paper. "Hurry, Detective," Finch said, "you have a deadline." The Chief pointed at the Twenty-Year watch on his wrist. Dominic got up from the floor, grabbed the watch from Finch's arm and threw it. It landed on a map of Europe. The Chief retrieved it, "Penalty for using your hands, you silly git. What kind of football are you playing?" Dominic hung his head in shame, went to sit in the penalty box. Hockey players loomed over him, grinning gap-toothed smiles. One of them handed him a satchel with letters and a placenta inside. "Take this to Evey, Mr. Postman, she is staying with that bloke Stone in Marseilles." Dominic took the heavy satchel and left the ice rink. He carried it for miles, across a bridge over a river, down a muddy ravine, through a blood-spattered cottage until finally he found himself staring at a building. He looked up, three stories high. A sign on the front of the building read, "MUSEE DE LA BANQUE NATIONALE DE BELGIQUE". A hand waved at him from a window at the very top, and then Dominic saw the Chief Inspector lean out the window and beckon to him.

Dominic sat up in the bed, his eyes wide, staring straight ahead at nothing. Evey was at his side in an instant. "Dominic! What is it? What's wrong? What's wrong?" She bounced the bed as she climbed in beside him and put her hands on his face, peering into his eyes like she might see him in there.

"They are in Brussels!" He blinked, wondering how he could be so certain.

"How do you know?" She echoed his thought.

He moved his eyes to look at her. "I don't know. It's just a feeling. Hand me my phone."

* * *

Two hours later they sat next to each other on a train to Belgium. Dominic had his laptop on his knees, typing the Ambassador's report on the dead Englishmen. Evey watched him absently as she patted Edmond as he lay over her shoulder. Dominic used all the fingers of his left hand to type, but only his index and middle finger of his right. The other two fingers pointed stiff and useless across the compartment at the empty seats in front of them. Evey turned away to look at the dark window. She didn't need any more reminders of V tonight. The missing satchel made an empty feeling by her leg. She moved her foot. _It's gone._ She bounced the baby a little harder until he burped, loud and hearty like a longshoreman.

Dominic looked up from the keyboard, "You sure you aren't feeding him Stout?"

"No." She said shortly. She wouldn't look at him. His eyes had burned her when he woke up in his flat, breathing hard and asking for his phone. _He has a face, he has eyes_. _Not like V_. Dominic's dark eyes had looked at her. _He loves me. _She saw it now every time she looked at him. _But he is not allowed to love me_. It made her angry to think of it. _Stop loving me and get me my satchel. _

By the time the train rolled into Brussels the report was finished and sent to Paris. He packed up his briefcase and tried to help her out of the compartment. She shrugged off his hands. "I can walk."

"I'm sorry, Evey."

She wouldn't look at his sad eyes. "Call Johnson," she told him as they walked beside the tracks.

"I did already. He has three addresses to search tomorrow, Eve. He will get your satchel. He will find it."

He tried to help her into a cab. This time she let him hold Edmond until she was seated. They rode in silence to the hotel. He signed them in, reserving one room, two doubles for the three of them. Evey thought about complaining, and nearly spoke up to insist on having her own room, but deep inside she felt safer with him so close. She hated herself for it.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" she asked as they rode the elevator to the third floor.

"Saving Britain." He turned those eyes on her again. She hated him for it.


	18. Chapter 18

Allegro 18

Rated PG

Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, and DC, among others.

* * *

Dominic sat on the edge of the bed and turned on his laptop_. I need two phones and a secretary. _While he waited for the screen to light up he picked up his phone. Six AM. _Matters not. I'm calling Perry. _Dominic pushed the power button then used his thumb to enter more digits into his mobile. He spoke softly so as not to wake Evey and the baby. "Perry? How is the Inspector?"

A sleepy voice answered. "It's bad, Stone. I'm sorry to have to tell you. He is getting the best care we can give him, but there is nothing we can do without those stem cells. His own body must destroy the virus and his body must have the genetic programming to do it. Have you located the placenta?"

"I'm close. Is he...is he...conscious?" Dominic turned away from the bed where Evey and Edmond lay. Even in the dimness of the early morning light he feared his face might be visible.

"He drifts in and out. He's fighting the drugs we are administering to sedate him."

"Then he wants to tell you something, Perry. Has he spoken to you?"

"Just nonsense. Babbling. He is delirious, Detective. I'm sorry."

Dominic leaned forward, "Can you remember anything he has said? Even if it didn't seem to make sense? Has he repeated anything?"

"He goes on about a 'bank'. Nobody is using any money around here lately. He's not asking for his pay."

"That's all? 'Bank'?"

"And someone named 'Paul'."

_God_. Dominic covered his eyes with his hand even though his back was to Eve. He paused a moment then asked, "What does he say about Paul?"

"Well, Detective, it doesn't make any sense..."

"Please, Perry."

"He says, 'Tell Paul to go to the bank.'"

"Tell Paul?" Dominic frowned, thinking.

"Yes, he says, 'Tell Paul I want him to go to the bank. Paul's in Brussels.'" Perry paused, then his voice came over the mobile's speaker, puzzled. "Aren't you in Brussels, Detective?"

"Oh..." Dominic squeezed his eyes shut. "I will be in touch, Perry." His thumb pressed the 'end' key. He tried to breathe, then he stood up. _I have to get out of here. _This early in the morning the only place to go would be to a café, or the hotel restaurant. _The bathroom?_ He glanced briefly at Evey's bed to make sure she was still sleeping before slipping onto the small room and locking himself in.

* * *

The sound of the clicking lock meant that Evey could open her eyes. She rolled over without disturbing Edmond and checked Dominic's bed. _Empty. He must be in the bathroom._ She frowned. _He had been on the phone to Perry and now I hear him. It sounds as though...oh no. Finch. Mr. Finch must be dead._ She slid from beneath the sheets; tucking pillows around Edmond, then crept to the bathroom door. She leaned her head against the wood and spoke into the crack. "Dom?" The sounds inside immediately ceased. A second later she heard the shower come on. She wasn't fooled. "Dominic!" She rapped on the door with her knuckles. "Is it Mr. Finch? Please. Tell me."

"The door's locked for a reason," she heard over the sound of running water.

"Let me in."

"No."

Evey stood back, staring at the door. She took a shuddering breath. _Oh no. We are too late_. Edmond began to cry. Evey knocked on the door again, tried another tack. "My diapers are in there."

The door clicked open three inches, a diaper was passed through the tiny crack, then the door closed again. _Aha. His hand is dry_. "Dominic!"

She heard him through the door. "Go change the baby, Eve. Leave me alone."

She stood there, open-mouthed, holding a tiny diaper in her hand. Edmond grew more insistent. _I will raise the stakes._ "I have to pee!" she pitched her voice higher to make sure he heard her over the water and the baby. The shower shut off, then the door opened. _Ah! Victory! _Dominic brushed past her in his tee shirt and flannel sweats, his hair and body completely dry_. I knew the shower was faked._ She stared at his back as he bent over his laptop. _Not completely dry._ _He missed a spot near his eye_.

He spoke without turning around. "Bathroom's yours, Eve."

"Dom, please. Is it Mr. Finch?"

"No."

"He's...he's still alive?"

"Yes."

Relief. "God, Dom. I thought...you made me think..."

"Do you have to go or not?"

She set her mouth in a firm line, then picked up the baby and took him into the bathroom.

* * *

Dominic searched online for banks in Brussels. _Maybe he means Evey's bank. Does he mean I need to use her money to pay off Marveaux? No. He said 'Brussels'. Evey's money is in Geneva. Why would a placenta be in a bank? Security? Armored cars?_ Dominic pointed his mind at "bank" and let it go. _Tellers, loans, safe deposit boxes, guards, cash, withdrawals, deposits, investments, savings...savings...save the victims, save the placenta...a bank? What is in banks? Money, jewels, gold_... he straightened up. _Sperm banks. Liquid nitrogen. That's it. _He bent over the keyboard again typed in "fertility" and "Brussels". A moment later he picked up his phone and punched InterPol.

"What is it?" Evey asked when he finished his call. She bounced Edmond on her shoulder.

"We've been searching labs, not offices. I think the placenta is in a sperm bank, a small fertility clinic, not a laboratory."

His mobile chirped and he put it to his ear, continued typing with his left hand. "Stone."

"Detective. It's Perry. Yesterday the Nose took the comlink from Massey and plugged it in."

"And?"

"It stopped the computer and opened a panel that popped out a thumb pad."

"Oh, no."

"Yes."

"Does Massey know?" Dominic glanced at Evey and the baby, then folded the cover down on his laptop and went into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"He does. He was there." Perry sighed. "They all know now that only she can open it."

"And he is gone now?"

"That's why I am calling you."

"Thank you for the warning. The Inspector?"

"Worse."

"How long?"

"Not long."

Dominic opened his mouth to reply. There was a timid knock at the door. He leaned against the towel rack, forced himself to speak. "Thank you, Perry." He folded his phone and looked at the door. "Come in," he said. "It's not locked."

The door opened slowly, she leaned on the knob. "Mr. Finch?"

Dominic stood up; put his phone in his pocket. He meant to say that the Chief was still breathing, meant to say he was still alive. He felt his throat moving but no sounds came out to reassure her.

"Oh, Dominic." She stepped toward him as though she would embrace him. He pushed past her into the room, reaching for his suit coat.

He said to her. "Get dressed, get the baby. I'm not leaving you here."

"We are going somewhere?"

"I'm taking you to the police station, then I am getting that placenta."

* * *

Evey sat on a sofa alone in a pleasant office at the police station, Edmond sleeping on her knees. Dominic had given her his mobile before he left. She knew why. She stared at it every now and then, willing it to be silent. Any news from Perry was bound to be bad, so she jumped when it made a sound. Edmond opened his eyes, but did not cry. Evey unfolded it trepidatiously.

"Hello?"

"Miss Ha...Mrs. Abernathy? It's Johnson."

"Mr. Johnson! Did you get my satchel?"

"Yes, I..."

"Oh God! Oh God! Was everything inside? Everything? Nothing missing?"

"I think so. Is the Detective there?"

"No, no, he has gone with InterPol to search for the placenta. Are the letters there? All five? Count them, Mr. Johnson."

There was a pause... _too long, too long_. Evey had to force herself to hold still, she was shaking so hard Edmond was in danger of bouncing off her knees. Johnson's voice came back. "There are five letters, Mrs. Abernathy. Five." She leaned back against the cushions and took a deep breath. Johnson continued, "I will be there this afternoon. Tell me where you are."

Evey told him. "Hurry," she whispered.

* * *

Dominic entered the police station, tired, disheveled. The operation had been executed so well, he almost felt disappointed. InterPol had stormed the little clinic with their weapons and gas, the staff had given up immediately, the placenta located with ease. The placenta was in several sections, perfectly preserved. Perry was on his way to personally escort the precious cells to London. The key had been finding it in time, and Dominic knew the timing was as mysterious as any sleuthing work he had ever done. He thought about his dream as he strode down the sterile halls of the station, showing his badge at every check point. _The Chief told me. Somehow_. He shook his head, put his hand on the door to the waiting room.

_She's gone._ He turned back to the security checkpoint. "Where is Mrs. Abernathy?"

"She was checked out about fifteen minutes ago, Detective."

"Who checked her out?"

"Your assistant, Detective Johnson."

"Can I see the log?"

The guard pushed a heavy book around so Dominic could see the entry and the signature. It wasn't Johnson.

* * *

He dialed his phone knowing there would be no response. There wasn't. He dialed Johnson.

"Johnson."

"Johnson, this is Stone. Do you have Mrs. Abernathy?"

"No, I don't have her. I made arrangements to pick her up at the police headquarters. I am in the train station. Is she gone?"

"Yes. Did you call my mobile and talk to her?"

"Yes. I told her I have her letters...and the bits of costume." Johnson paused. "The baby? Is he gone too?"

Dominic lowered the phone from his face. Johnson repeated himself. "Detective? Is the baby gone too? Detective?" The voice from the little speaker became agitated. "Detective Stone! Are you there, sir?"

* * *

Evey felt herself become angrier and angrier with every passing street light. Edmond slept on her shoulder, oblivious to the danger. They were being taken back to London, she figured that out soon enough. The car they traveled in was a government car this time. That was clear as well, and with the quarantine around Britain, Government involvement would be the only way to get back in. _We are probably going to the airport. _The driver did not speak. Massey sat in the front passenger side leering over the back of his seat, pointing a pistol at her. "I only need your thumb, Miss Hammond."

Evey narrowed her eyes at him. "You said the Nose wanted me alive."

Massey grinned even wider and the barrel of the gun moved ever so lightly until it was pointed at Edmond's head. "The Nose said nothing about the spawn. A small target, yes, but I am a crack shot at close range."

Evey moved Edmond until his head was over her heart and glared back.

Massey shook his head slightly as the barrel followed the target. "That will only protect him until we get there. You are a wanted fugitive, Miss Hammond, and we have papers to prove it."

Evey felt her cheek twitch. When the driver had come into the waiting room, she had not immediately sensed something was wrong. He had showed her his badge and told her that Johnson had sent him in to get her because he didn't want to carry the satchel past security where it might be confiscated. _Of course. V's mask...his signature on the letters...the police would take the satchel. Of course they would, even if it were in British custody. They would want to confirm everything._ He had told her the satchel was outside in the car. She closed her eyes remembering the flash of euphoria and the eagerness she felt. _And my heart has done me in. Again._

She opened her eyes and glared at Massey, her initial shock and fear was pushed out of her body by her fury. Anger at them, at Dominic, and especially at herself. _Why didn't I wait for Dom? He told me not to leave with anyone except him. He is the only one I can trust. Where is he now? How long before he discovers I am gone?_

* * *

Dominic blew through red lights, dodged the pedestrians who jumped back from the curb. He had been to the Brussels airport only once before, and while the street signs were helpful, but he relied on his memory. Any moment now and Brussels police would try to stop him. He would probably end up with an escort to the airfield, but he didn't want to lose the time explaining in French. _Johnson will meet me there_. His assistant had made the point that if it were Massey who took her, he was taking her to the Nose. Dominic didn't care. Maybe Massey would deliver Evey to the Nose...alive...her thumbprint would not be the same severed from her hand...but Edmond...Massey would not miss such an opportunity for a bit of extortion. Dominic whipped the little car onto the last straightaway and floored the accelerator. _They must take her to the airport._ The Chunnel is too far and security there too tight. No ship would take them with the patrols offshore. They must be planning to fly. But the nagging doubt tortured him. Massey would know that the airport would be the obvious choice. _Would he do something unpredictable to throw me off his tail? He must have government sponsors. Perhaps he doesn't fear me. Perhaps he is truly sanctioned. If so, it will be harder to kill him...but only a wee tiny bit harder_. Dominic grit his teeth as he pulled up to the first security checkpoint and waved his badge. 


	19. Chapter 19

Allegro 19

Rated R for language and violence.

Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore, and DC, among others.

* * *

The black car was parked beside a jet on the tarmac, the stairway still against the open door. _Our jet. _He heard the engines whining as they warmed up. _The pilots are going through their checklist for departure. _Dominic's little car slid sideways as he spun the wheel and applied the brakes. He was up the stairs and into the small space, his .38 in his hand. The door to the cockpit was sealed shut, there did not appear to be a flight attendant. He turned down the aisle.

Six faces sitting in seats, belted for take-off, turned to him, surprised. He recognized most of them in an instant, Evey, Massey, and Massey's man in one row. A frightened Perry, Piccoult, the InterPol agent in charge of the placenta, and a strange man in a lab coat sat in a row across from them. Massey immediately stood up in the aisle. Dominic pointed his pistol at Massey's head.

"Throw down your weapon," he said, "hands behind your head."

Massey laughed at him. "Fuck you, Stone. I have everything, you have nothing. I have the girl, the baby and the iced stem cells." He nodded to the man beside him. Dominic let his eyes dart for a split second. Long enough to see the man beside him had Edmond in his arms; his detective eyes noted that he had both hands on the baby. _No gun in sight. In a holster then, somewhere_. Dominic flashed his eyes on Evey, handcuffed to a seat between Massey and his henchman; her face told him everything he needed to know. Perry looked terrified, the InterPol agent shocked, the lab man was as white as his coat. "_You_ put _your_ weapon down, and take a seat. I have more cuffs."

When Dominic did not immediately obey, Massey signaled to his man who put his big hand under Edmond's blanket. The baby squalled louder than the engines and Evey screamed, "Dominic!"

Dominic lowered the pistol, clicked the safety deliberately and tossed it to the floor of the aisle. Then he raised his hands slowly behind his head, his eyes on Evey's. Her face was devastated. _She has given up_. He blinked once at her, then looked down at his left leg, then back up to meet her eyes as Massey came toward him in the narrow aisle, gun in one hand and cuffs in the other. _Be ready, Eve_. Dominic waited to see comprehension in her eyes. _There._ Her eyes widened once, then as Massey clicked open the cuffs and reach up for his wrist Dominic saw her duck her head behind the seat in front of her and lean towards Edmond and Massey's man. _Good girl._

Dominic waited until he felt the edge of the metal cuff around his wrist, then swung both arms down on Massey's neck. The big man did not fall, but brought his pistol up and jammed it into Dominic's chest. Dom grabbed Massey's wrist with one hand while the other swept down his leg and seized the pommel of V's knife from its place on his calf. The huge knife flipped up and entered Massey's body just below his sternum. Dominic used his left arm to bring Massey close to him and get the barrel of the pistol out of his ribs. He felt his fist follow the long blade up and inside into Massey's lungs and straight to his heart. He twisted the knife, staring straight into Massey's eyes as the warm blood surged over his wrist and down his arm, soaking his trousers and seeping into his shoes. Massey's eyes rolled up in their sockets seconds before Dominic felt the man's weight sink over his arm. He pulled the blade out, letting Massey slide down his body to the floor of the narrow aisle. _I have one second before his man realizes what happened_. As Massey sunk down, Dominic brought his arm back over his head. He stared hard at Evey..._she is ready to catch the baby_...his arm flew forward, the bloody knife spun once, droplets of Massey's blood flew off the blade like fireworks before the sharp blade sunk to the hilt between the eyes of Edmond's tormentor. Evey ducked and came up, the baby caught securely in her free arm as Massey's driver slumped against the window of the jet.

Dominic felt his ribs, looking for a hole. _Have I been shot?_ He inhaled deeply, _lungs ok_. He grabbed at the seat backs in front of him, to steady himself as he one by one he looked at the faces in the seats. Evey was weeping into Edmond's hair, Perry's eyes were closed, but his lips were moving silently, Piccoult was grinning, and the lab man was checking the machines that held the placenta. Dominic let himself relax.

"Excellentissime!" Piccoult shouted over the roar of the engines. "Now get the keys to these cuffs, Detective, and free us."

* * *

Evey lay on her side in V's bed in the Shadow Gallery. Edmond lay beside her, busily pulling on her breast with his mouth while she held the fourth letter in her hand. "Read this one after the baby comes." She read the sentence over and over, while keeping one ear trained on the Gallery outside the bedroom. Dominic was there with the men from the Nose, she heard his soft voice through the open door directing them, giving them orders. He was letting them catalogue the art, but nothing would get past him out the door. She knew. He would protect V's art. Just like he protected V's child. Just like he protected V's...widow. Two big tears rolled down her nose. _I have to read it. I have to_. Edmond's tiny mouth released her and he rolled back, asleep, his little tummy full. Evey looked down at his sleeping face, seeing V. With a little uneven sigh, she opened the envelope.

"My Darling. There is a new soul in the world. This world, that has seen billions of souls come and go, will embrace another one today. He or she is undoubtedly very small right now, but inside that tiny body rests one more hope, one more chance. Every free breath that is taken in this world is a breath of opportunity. In that small body rests an infinite palette of possibility.

I had no idea, Eve. Believe me when I tell you I was as surprised as you to learn that I would not be leaving you alone on the Fifth. Now, as I write this letter in the picture room, looking at portraits of those who came before me, I feel strangely comforted, knowing someone will come after me. I will leave you, I must leave you, but before I knew about the baby I grieved that my hope was in the possibilities of strangers. Now I see a glimmer where before was only darkness.

Keep my child free, Eve. No one who is free is without hope. Perhaps he will become a writer, a musician...perhaps she will become an artist, a teacher, a healer. The world needs more free minds, no matter how many people are born or perish each day. This world creates us and nurtures us, and in the end receives us again, Eve.

I shall make a request of you, my love. Please. I beg you. You must give my child a family. Give the baby a grandmother, a grandfather, aunts and uncles, cousins and, Evey, give the baby a father. Live your life in love. Give the baby a family. For my sake, do not entomb yourself in a coffin of art and literature, for no matter how beautiful, it is still a coffin. I am always with you. I am not made of porcelain or paint or leather or wisps of hair. What I am is beneath the mask, Eve.

I love you so much.

V"


	20. Chapter 20

Allegro

Rated PG

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Moore, Lloyd, and others.

* * *

Evey lay Edmund down in his crib and covered him. His little mouth puckered, sucking on an invisible nipple. _Dreaming about milk, no doubt_. She turned the lights out but left her door open in case he should wake. He rarely slept for more than an hour at a time during the night, but slept soundly during the day. She knew she should be trying to get a nap in as well, but there was still too much to do. The Inspector would be arriving this afternoon. She looked around appreciatively at her new house. Her solicitors told her that the lease on this place had expired on October 31st of last year, the tenants moved out on November 4th. The furniture, she was told, belonged to the original owner and stayed with the house. She had gone over each of V's properties, realizing he had set this house up for her. There was a huge library on the first floor, strangely empty of books. Evey had arranged for the books from the Shadow Gallery to be brought in and catalogued and arranged by a graduate student from King's College. The third day in her new house she discovered the name of the original owner. Audrey. The name was on the deed the solicitor showed her. Evey walked through the house, thinking of her, touching her things, thanking her.

Dominic had been working long hours at the Nose; there was no telling when he would be home. Packages had arrived, some of Finch's belongings from his flat, Dominic's things from his Mum's house, and there were bills that needed to be paid. She made her way downstairs, checked the ground floor guest room. _Everything is ready here_. _The medical transport will be bringing him from hospital in a few hours._ She sat down in the kitchen and opened her day book. _I have meetings with the curators of the British Museum and the National Gallery tomorrow._

The main entry clicked. Eve turned her head toward the door. Dominic came in and hung his Mac over a kitchen chair. It had been raining all week. September was turning out to be a stormy month.

"Eve," he said in greeting.

"Dom." She smiled warily, curious as to why he was home so early, not so comfortable about asking him. He moved to the cooker and turned on a burner, then filled the kettle in the sink. She watched him set the kettle and get the teapot down from the shelves behind the counter.

"I came home early," he said unnecessarily.

"I see that. Everything is well at the office?" It was just a thing to say. Evey covered her day book with her hand, no sense in letting him see how busy she was. His tone suggested he came home for a good reason.

"Would you like some tea?" He pulled a cup down for himself, and then paused his hand over a second one.

"Please. Yes. Some chamomile. Caffeine keeps the baby awake." He lifted the tea rack and ruffled through it looking for chamomile. Evey closed her day book. His mouth held a grim line when he didn't know she was looking. _Something is wrong. Finch?_ "What's wrong, Dominic? Is it the Inspector? Did you hear something from the hospital?"

"No. He's fine. His doctor called me this morning. He should be here before tea time. He's been signed out and in ready to transport. He will be heavily sedated and a nurse will visit every day to report back to the Ministry of Health."

"That's good to know. So what is it? You can't hide anything from me. Every thought you have is broadcast clearly across your face, Dom. Not such a good thing for a detective, I would think."

"It's just you, Eve. You are the only one I have trouble with."

"Trouble? Is that the word we are using?" She was sorry she quipped so quickly. The room became icy. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. That was uncalled for." She covered her face with a hand as the kettle began to whistle. _Stupid stupid. I need to be more careful with him. _He did not respond to her apology, but poured the boiling water into the teapot.

"We need to talk about the living arrangements you have made." He set her cup before her and sat across the table with his own steaming cup. She looked at him over the rim of her tea as she took a sip. He was neat in his blue suit and tie, his dark hair carefully combed back off his forehead. She remembered how the long parts would fall over his eyes when it got wet or disheveled. It lent a boyish charm to an otherwise overly serious face. Evey tried to remember the last time she had seen him smile. Ages. _Maybe never. And now he wants to talk about his trouble. He wants to talk about me. Very well._

She set her cup down. "And? Are you not satisfied? Is this not a very comfortable place?" He lowered his own cup to the table and scanned the kitchen and the rooms through the doorway. Evey remembered his flat. It had been small, cramped with oversized furniture and had a definite air of a place that rarely contained an occupant. This house is warm, tastefully decorated, large and airy. Plenty of sunlight can come in through the large windows. _It's a damned sight better than where he had lived before. _And Finch's place was just as empty. The Inspector still retained his lease, but would need at least six weeks of care before he could be on his own. _Best to stay here for now. Eric has no family to take him in. _Evey took another sip. _I am his family now. We are._ She tilted her head. That might be the trouble. _It's not the house. It's the family_. "Dom?"

"It's a beautiful house."

"Yes," she said proudly. "It's perfect, I think. And your room? Large enough? Your closet? Your bathroom? It's nice, isn't it?" She was aware she was pushing him.

"Yes." He buried his face in his cup, drained his tea and looked back at the teapot.

"Then what is the trouble?" He got up and poured himself another cup, but he did not return to the table. He seemed to want to keep the countertop bar between them. Evey became impatient. _I don't have time for this anymore_. "Dom. Speak up, man. What is troubling you?"

He turned to her, put his cup down. "You are the trouble, Eve."

"I gathered that," she tried not to sound unkind.

He sighed. "I like living here. I love it. But…" He looked inside his cup as if the tea leaves could help him.

Eve got up and walked around the counter, stopped a few feet from him and looked up at him expectantly. _I will push him until he just comes out with it_.

He sighed, "I can't pretend you don't mean anything to me. I've been trying," he set the cup down and looked directly at her so she could read his face.

Evey did read it. The unspoken words were in his eyes. _Something is eating him up_. "We have been through Hell together," she said gently, "that _does_ mean something. We are closer than some married people."

Dominic stared at her for a moment before replying. "That's it. I want you to marry me. I know it is useless to ask you. You will not. I already know it." He hung his head. "But living here with you is killing me. Seeing you, but not touching you. Hearing you, but not laughing with you. Your scent torments me for hours after you have left the room. I can't bear it." He looked away then lifted his empty cup and banged it firmly against the counter.

Evey felt a wave of pity for him. She knew what it was like to want someone and not be able to have him in her arms. She frowned, thinking of the best way to answer. Dominic was looking back at her now, expecting an answer. _And he deserves one_. _How do I feel about him?_ She blinked a few times, sorting her feelings. She liked having him around. Not because he was competent and could pull out a pistol almost as fast as V could whip out a knife. _No_. She did not feel afraid. She did not need a protector, a body guard anymore. She cocked her head, looking at up him, examining his face. _He is a good conversationalist. He has stories to tell, insights into psychology, and experiences that continue to astound me. He is an excellent judge of character and an astute and shrewd observer. He is kind. He has no serious personality quirks_. _He is tall and strong and healthy, handsome even._ _He loves me_. She searched her mind for a reason to reject him. There was only one. _He is not V._

He moved closer and leaned over her. His eyes said that he wanted to kiss her. He rested his hand on her shoulder. _He_ _is watching me, waiting for permission to kiss me._ He inhaled softly and whispered to her, "I can't live here and not have you, Eve. You have to decide. I'll go back to my Mum's until I can find a flat. I can move out Friday if you want me to."

"I don't want you to move out," she responded immediately. That was easy to say. She _knew_ she didn't want him to go. The thought of her house without him in it gave her a chilly, empty feeling she could not identify. _But I do not love him_. Her mouth turned down with the sadness of that realization. He saw her face drop and moved in, taking her in his arms, bending her back and pressing his lips against hers. She felt a surge of fury. _No one kisses me!_ She pushed him back and without thinking drew her arm back and smacked him across the face as hard as she could.

She was immediately sorry. He put a hand to his cheek, his eyes big and surprised, then hurt. She realized how he had mistaken her words. He thought that because she wanted him to _stay_ it meant she wanted _him_. The hand he held to his cheek was ravaged with scars; they reminded her of why she could not love him. Her regret vanished with that thought. _V. He is my only love. There will never be another. How dare he kiss me! Like I am his!_ She narrowed her eyes, fierce again with anger. She pointed a finger at him. "I am not yours!" she shouted, trying to lay him low with her words. "I will never be yours! I am his. And if he were here he would gut you with his knives for stealing that kiss!" He staggered to the counter and used it to hold him up. When he turned back to her his eyes were no longer hurt or surprised. Angry. He was furious.

Evey took a step back. Dominic had never looked at her that way. His face flushed red and he struck the counter with his fist hard enough to make the teapot bounce. She stepped back again, her initial shock swept away by the intensity of his glare. His voice, when he spoke, was tight and controlled. "So that is how it is." He gathered the next volley of words. "You will be his and no other's. Not mine. Not anyone's."

She nodded, not sure she could trust herself to speak to the storm she saw in his face.

He continued. "Then we are through, Eve. There is nothing for me here. I did my duty. I am finished. He is yours. Keep him. And may his memory keep you warm at night. God knows I won't." He pushed past her to the kitchen table and yanked his Mac so hard he sent the chair crashing to the floor. "Send me pictures of the baby on his birthday," he thundered. "You can't take that from me. Those memories are mine, now. You can take the baby from me, but not my memories of him, nor the way I feel about him." He turned his back on her headed for the door.

"No you don't!" She knew just how loud she could shout to keep from waking the baby. "You don't get the last word!" She leapt around him and blocked his way to the door. She held her hand up and he stopped; his dark eyes intense. He was not avoiding her eyes at all. In fact, she realized he was pummeling her with a stare. She glared back. "It is not so simple as that. You don't understand anything!"

"He is dead." Dominic kept his voice down, but the venom in the tone was just as potent as if he had screamed the words at her. "I understand that." She sagged back against the wall, shocked that he would stab at her this way. _Dominic has always been my champion, my protector, my supporter. _To see his strength turned on her brought her back down. _Righteous indignation. That's what I feel. He shouldn't be able to control me like this. No one does. _

"Get out of my way," he growled. She stood fast. "Goddamn, it, Eve, get out of my way or so help me I will move you myself. He threw his Mac over his shoulder and reached for her arms with both hands. She let him seize her shoulders, part of her curious as to how far he would go, the other part stubborn, refusing to be cowed into obedience. _I am not finished with this conversation. He cannot leave like this. _His strong hands shook her, just enough to make a point. _He is bigger_. _So what. I am stronger than his hands. _She lifted her chin to keep their eyes locked as he picked her up and moved her to the side. He set her down gently. _Too gently_. Evey had him flayed and she knew it. _Now for the killing blow. _She drew in her breath to tell him that he could never be loved as she had been loved. That he will never compare to what she had before. She felt the thoughts like sharp knives in her brain_. I can throw them now. I can tell him that he will never melt me with a word, thrill me with his mouth, and electrify me with his ideas. I can tell him this and kill him dead right here in my hall. Right now. He is vulnerable, he is weak. I can destroy him. It will be so easy. His love for me makes him weak._

She opened her mouth. He was waiting. He was giving her one more chance to speak before he blew through the front door into the storm. She couldn't do it. She realized she did not want to kill him dead. She did not want to destroy him. Why? All he had ever done was love her. Tears came to her instead of vicious words. He saw the tears. He didn't care. He pushed her back against the wall to clear the path to the door and went out with a slam.

She stood there as the wall shook with the force of his fury. _I don't love him. I don't care that he's gone. _She waited for that thought to comfort her. It didn't. _V would be proud that I stood up to Dominic, that I resisted his advances. That I stayed true to his memory._ She waited for that thought to bring her peace. It didn't. _V would not have let him touch me. V would have killed him. _She waited to see how that thought made her feel. It made her feel nauseous.

She stood there, leaning against the wall. She realized slowly that she was wrong. V had deliberately _not_ killed Dominic three times. Three times V had let him live. He could have killed him in the Tower the first time Dom had pulled a gun on him. He could have killed him in the Mausoleum, if he had wanted him dead. And the last time, in the tunnel. Eve remembered V's agony as he worried that he had actually _had_ killed Dominic. How he had sunk to the floor, moaning with remorse, thinking he had crushed the detective's skull. Eve felt the tears roll own her cheeks. She remembered V bringing Dominic in to the cell, carrying him so gently, laying him on the cot so carefully, telling her to set his fingers, making her feed him and care for him. She remembered how she felt the first time she had to put Dominic in the tub and bathed him. She remembered that. _I felt so responsible, so sorry for him._ She had soaped his chest and shoulders and he looked at her with his dark eyes then like he looked at her this morning before he left for the office. _He has loved me since that bath_.

She put a hand to her forehead. The words in V's letter came to mind now. _He had wanted Dominic for me, for the baby, he was picking out my family for me a year ago. God_. V didn't want him dead. He wanted a daddy for his baby. A "good man", he had said. _He had brought me a good man_. It was too late. _He is gone._ _They are both gone._ That chilly, empty feeling returned. She remembered it now. It was the same feeling the Gallery got when V went out at night.

Upstairs she heard the baby wail.

* * *

The pub was warm and dark. He let his Mac slide off his shoulders and hung it with his hat on the clothes tree beside the door. The sound of his name bounced around the pub.

"Stone."

"Detective."

"Stone."

"Stone."

"Dominic."

He nodded to the men nearest him; he nodded in the general direction of the back where it was too dark and smoky to really see who had greeted him. Molly at the bar pointed at his old table in the back near the corner. _It is empty_. He made his way around the maze of chairs and tables to the familiar booth. He sat down in his old place, looking at the walls, the display of old photographs of patrons, antique shot glasses, aged wooden cigar boxes...his old life looked back at him. _Everything is different now._ Molly appeared at his table almost immediately, a black and tan foaming over her thumb, her smile a warm welcome on a cold night.

"'ere ya go, Luv. Y' been gone a long while. We missed y'."

Dominic stared at the foaming pint, watched the creamy froth spill over and puddle on the table's glossy surface. He reached for it with his right hand, his long fingers spread open, ready to grasp the curved glass. Then he caught the sight of the scars shining white in the half light from the flickering candles. He let go of the glass and turned his hand slowly against the candles, looking at the healed wounds. The thick scars looked like roadways on a map, snaking out and over his knuckles. He withdrew his hand and spoke, his voice tight. "Molly, I…I don't want a pint tonight. Not a pint…please bring me…bring me Scotch. No ice."

He glanced up at her when she did not respond. Her smile had disappeared into her wrinkles, her eyes were sad. She picked up the black and tan with one hand and deftly wiped the foam from the table with her ever-present towel. She whispered low to him, "Aye. If that's what ye'll be havin' tonight…_Inspector_."

* * *

Eve opened the door to the Fox and Hound. Inside it was warm and dark and welcoming. The air inside smelled comfortably of cigars and beer and whiskey, a masculine combination that always made her remember her grandfather. She was greeted with "What'll ye have?" by the bartender.

"No, thank you," she answered quickly, "I'm looking for someone."

Evey scanned the room, trying not to be too obvious. She moved carefully down the main aisle towards the back. _That's were I would go. The darkest corner_. And that's where she found him, hunched in a booth, his hand curled around a short glass. Empty.

"Dominic."

He looked up, startled. His eyes were big behind his hair. The storm had whipped the long bangs into wet strings and he had not bothered to comb them back. _I need to buy him a hat_. She watched him recognize her, then slump inside his suit like a man who's been gut-shot. Evey sat down across from him. She shivered a little in the warm room. The look he had given her was like ice.

"Dominic. I've come to take you home."

"No, y' won't."

She was relieved his words were only slightly slurred, but he had lost some of his university correctness and was drifting heavily into dialect. _He's not so far gone. I got here in time. _"I have and I will. I am sorry. I'm sorry I shouted. I'm sorry I slapped you. That was wrong. It was so very wrong." She reached across the table and tried to take his hand, but he snatched it away and put it under the table. "Dom, please. Let me take you home. You can sleep. We can talk in the morning, or after work. I can't go to sleep knowing you are out here. I won't be able to sleep until you are safe in bed."

"How?" He sat up straight and looked around the pub like he had just awakened from a bad dream, then turned his eyes on her, alarmed. "Edmund? Y' didn't leave him alone? Evey?"

Evey smiled. "No. Of course not. Your Mum is with him."

He swayed against the paneled wall, looked ill. "My Mum. You called me Mum? You play dirty, Eve." She saw him set his teeth. He finished with a snarl, "You shouldn't have done that."

Evey cringed at the venom in his voice. "I rung her up," she said carefully, "To ask her which pub was _your _pub."

"Aye, an' she told y'," his eyes were dangerous now.

Clearly he was agitated. Time for a different approach. Eve got up and moved to his side of the table, blocking him in against the wall and forcing him to touch her. She tried to take his hand again, when that failed she snaked her arm around his back and held him around his waist. _You will listen to me_. "I rung her up and while I was on the phone the baby started to cry. She asked me if he was my baby, Dominic. Then she asked me if he was her grandbaby."

"Oh God. Mum…God. What d'y tell her?" His voice broke.

Evey sighed. The danger had passed. "I told her that he would be her grandson if she would please tell me where to find you. She told me right away. She said, 'You'll find him at the Fox and Hound.'" Evey smiled, remembering the eagerness in his mum's voice. Mrs. Stone had arrived at her townhouse within the hour. She was a small woman, neat and well-dressed. She wore a pearl necklace and had her gray hair styled up off her neck, even this late in the evening. Evey had recognized Dominic in his mother's eyes when the woman had smiled at the baby. _Dominic doesn't smile enough. I will make him smile. It is time he smiled. Mrs. Stone will be a good grandma. _She knew it the moment she laid little Edmond in Mrs. Stone's arms. Tears had welled up in the older woman's eyes as she smiled down at the baby._ And Eric will be a good grandfather, but now it is time to go and get the daddy._

Dominic sighed. "Betrayed by me own Mum." He hung his head; his hair fell over his eyes again.

Evey hugged him harder. "Come home and go to sleep. Let me put you to bed." He didn't answer, and she let him think about it some more. "We will talk about it when you get home from work tomorrow. You need to sleep, Dom. I need to sleep. I can't sleep without you in the house. I tried. I can't. The house is cold without you. We can talk tomorrow." The waitress appeared at her other elbow. Evey looked up at the woman's weathered face.

The waitress nodded, "You'll be wantin' something?" Then she thrust her chin at Dominic, "And you, Luv? Another Scotch?"

Evey opened her bag and pulled out her card. "No, thank you. I'll take care of the tab. We are leaving." Dominic protested then, shrugged her away from him and fumbled for his wallet. Evey leaned her shoulder against Dom to make it hard for him to move his elbow. "Please…hurry." Evey held up her thumb. The waitress smiled and pushed the thumbpad toward her. Evey swiped her card and pressed her thumb to the pad before Dominic could get his arm free.

"You take care of him," the older woman said as she leaned over the table to pick up his glass.

"I will," Evey promised.


	21. Chapter 21

Allegro 21

Sigh…it's all over...almost

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and others

* * *

He would be coming in soon. Eve looked at the clock over the mantle. She had disabled its chimes. The constant fifteen minute updates of the passing of time pained her still. _Every whir and click and chime sends me back to the tunnel, to the train._ She had disabled all the chimes in all the clocks in her house. _When I want to know the time, I will look up._

She heard him outside, fumbling for his key. She opened the door for him and stood aside. _He is cold. _He stood there on the stoop, hatless, his hair whipped around his head in the gusts from the storm. _His hair curls when it is wet._ Circles of hair stuck to his forehead in round coils while the rest of it stood up in the wind as he stood there, staring at her, his keys in his hand. His Mac was pulled up around his neck, but he was cold and wet. Evey opened the door wider and he came in, bringing some of the storm with him.

He had gone straight away to the kitchen. Evey followed the trail of drips on the floor to find him there, taking off his Mac, setting his briefcase on the chair and laying his mobile on the counter. Evey smiled at him. "I made soup for you. It's in the crock-pot. And I have some hot bread to go with it. You'll be warm soon."

He glanced at her, worried. Evey smiled harder, reassuring him. His eyes were still wary, his mouth firm. They had not spoken since last night when she had tucked him into his bed. He pulled off a glove, tilted his head toward Finch's room. "How is he?" His voice was hoarse. _Maybe he is coming down with a cold. Or he is more worried about Finch than he lets on. Or it's something else._

"I will go check on him for you," Evey said in a smooth voice. _We can talk about this later if you want._

His mobile rang. He looked at the folded screen with distaste. "I have to take this call," he said.

He sounded apologetic. Guilty. Evey smiled again. _My smiles are ineffective. He needs more than my smiles. _She said to him_, "_Take the call. I will check on him. You need a hot shower before you eat. Go take the edge off that chill you brought in with you."

He nodded, dripped water on the counter from his hair. Evey turned as he reached for the mobile. She heard him talking over her shoulder as she made her way to Finch's room. "This is Stone. Yes. I see. Do you have the papers for it? Have you filed the report?" His voice faded as she passed through the open door into the first-floor guest room.

She kept it dark in here. The doctors had said to keep the lights low until he had recovered completely. Evey opened the door to let in the light from the hall just enough so she could see him in the large bed. He was sleeping; she could hear his regular breathing. He was stretched out on the very edge of the bed on his side, facing away from the center. She had put a king-sized bed in this room for him. The medical transport men had placed him in the very center of it. Within a minute or so of their departure, she had found Finch on the edge. And he never moved from it. _Is he used to sleeping on the edge so he can reach the phone in the middle of the night?_

There was no place for her to sit next to him. She knelt on the floor_. Or maybe_…she looked over his shoulders at the vast empty space behind him on the bed. _He sleeps as far away from a woman as he can get. Cynthia. And Delia. V's Delia. A cold woman_. _We are all connected in one way or another, aren't we?_ Eve imagined Finch and Delia together. Two people going through the motions of love, but feeling nothing. _They both knew they needed something but not what it was. It was not each other._ She looked at his sleeping face. Relaxed. At peace. His dark curls were pressed against his head, bits of grey at his temples now; she didn't remember the grey from last year. _He is sleeping well. He is fine. He will be fine_. _I will tell Dominic, it will take some of the ache out of his eyes_. She held on to the bedside table to brace herself as she got to her feet. Finch's eyes flew open and he sat up quickly. The blankets fell away from his body, leaving him exposed in his cotton shirt and drawstring flannels.

Evey put her hands on his shoulders and sat down on the edge of the bed where now, suddenly, there was a space. "Oh, Mr. Finch. I'm sorry. I did not mean to disturb you, I was checking on you to see how you were doing. I'm so sorry. I didn't intend to wake you."

He was alarmed; the dark eyes quickly took in the room. An inspector's eyes. Evey waited until he had scanned everything, seen everything, collected himself. "Where am I?" He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

"You are here, in my home, Mr. Finch, Eric. You were released from hospital yesterday. The doctors have you heavily sedated. They say you won't sleep without drugs. That is why you might feel disoriented. Do you have any pain?" Evey asked that last question because of the stricken look in his eyes. He grimaced and rubbed his face with one hand. She reached for the prescription canisters on the table.

"No. No." He gestured, brushing the air in front of the canisters.

"No more drugs. I have to think."

"Oh, there you are wrong, Inspector." Evey put the drugs down and took his hand. "No thinking. You just need to rest. At least a week of rest before you do any more thinking. I am taking care of you. And Dominic is taking care of the Nose. You can relax now. Everything is going to be fine. I came in to see if you need anything. Are you thirsty? Do you need to get up? The loo is just a few feet from this bed, right through that door. I have some soup for you if you are hungry. Some tea, the kettle is hot. Tell me what you need, Eric." He turned his eyes on her when he heard his name. Evey smiled a soft smile. _He needs reassuring._

"Your house?"

"Yes. We are here in Bloomsbury. You are staying with me."

"Dominic? The baby?"

Evey paused. Dominic. Her ear stretched out into the hall, to the stair. She heard Dominic, his phone call completed, climbing slowly and heavily up to his room, each weighty step like his own death knell. _I will go talk to him._ "Yes. He is here too. And the baby. We are all here. We are your family now, Eric."

The look he gave her nearly broke her heart. Evey sat back, put her hands on either side of his face. He felt soft on the outside, hard on the inside. The opposite of what she knew to be true about him. She made him look at her. "Eric. Look at me."

He did. His eyes, always so guarded, always so calculating, appeared lost. She saw him thinking despite her admonition and smiled at him. She kissed his forehead. Then Evey pulled him to her and hugged him, stroking his back. He sighed, sagging in her arms. _Go ahead_, she thought at him, _embrace me it's all right now, it's all over._ He folded her into his arms and squeezed. Evey felt his weariness in the embrace. _Time to rest, Inspector. Time for some peace_. _Can you feel that in me? Can you feel my peace?_

He murmured, "I can."

Evey leaned back to look at him, amazed. He blinked at her. Then he frowned. His dark eyes moved up and to the ceiling, then he stared back at her intently. In a very soft voice he said, "But someone else needs it more."

"Ah…" Evey stood up. "I believe you are right." She looked up at the ceiling too.

"He loves you so much."

Evey put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about him. I will take care of him, too."

Finch frowned again, looked up past her at the light fixture over their heads. "I think now would be a good time. It's just a feeling I have."

Evey patted his shoulder. "Yes. I know what to do."

Eve made her way up the stairs, hand on the railing, careful not to slip on the drops of water that had rained down from him on each step. She paused at the entrance to his bedroom. The door was wide open. She could hear the shower running within. His suit coat lay over the arm of a chair. His briefcase lay on the bed. His shoes were by the wall. She walked past each of his things on her way to the bathroom. The bathroom door had been pulled close to the jam to keep the steam in, but he had not closed it. He did not like closed doors. Not anymore. Evey knew why.

She pushed the door open and went in silently, clicking it shut behind her. Only the dim lights from the mirror were on. He had not flipped all the switches. Evey liked soft light when she was in the bath too. His trousers, with the belt still attached, lay over the sink, his white shirt on top of them. His blue tie was draped over the towel rack. Black socks on the floor. The water made a hissing sound, loud in her ears. She could see him through the glass doors; the steam and the etching on the glass diffused the shape of his body into a shadowy blur in the running water.

Eve watched him. He had not heard her come in. She could tell buy the way his arms worked behind the glass, soaping his hair. She slipped off her shoes one by one. Then she shimmied out of her skirt and draped it over his trousers. The steam made it difficult to see the tiny white buttons of her blouse. She unbuttoned each one and let the silk fall to the floor. Her bra came off. She laid it over his tie. Her panties joined her blouse on the floor. She walked to the shower door. Even the sliding glass door was not closed all the way. He had left it open a couple inches. A light mist drifted from the shower on to the floor through the opening. She paused with a finger on the door handle. _When I slide this door, there will be no going back. Is this what I want?_

_It is_.

She touched the door lightly, allowing it to slide smoothly in its track, then stepped into the shower, sliding the door fully closed behind her. She looked up at him, expecting to see him shocked. He was. He stood there, absolutely still, his eyes wide. The shower rained water down on his head, plastering his dark hair to his cheeks in ropes.

Evey merely stood before him, naked, letting the splashes of water from his shower cover her body, stippling her with tiny droplets. Her hair slowly relaxed until every strand hung down over her shoulders and lightly touched her breasts. She waited for him to recover from his surprise. He blinked at her, but did not move or speak. _Obviously he will not recover quickly_. _Time to act, then._ Evey took a step toward him and lifted a wash cloth from the rack on the tile wall, then the soap from the ledge. She did not move her eyes from his as she soaped the cloth. She took another step until she was nearly touching him. She had to look up even higher now, to hold his eyes. She raised her hand and touched his shoulders with the soapy cloth, then slowly made a circling motion over his muscled chest. He flinched. She knew he would. _Slowly_, she told herself. _Slowly_. _I have to be careful._ His eyes changed. _Good. No longer shocked._ Now they were worried. _He is afraid_. _He doesn't know what I am doing_. She continued to soap his chest and shoulders until she felt him relax slightly, getting used to the idea that she was in the shower with him. Then she moved the washcloth down his right arm to his hand. He allowed her to lift it and examine it in the steamy light. Evey brushed the soapy cloth over his fingers, looked at the scars. Thick white marks crisscrossed the back of the hand from the wounds the surgeon's knife had left on him. Smaller scars peppered the fingers from where the splintered bone had pierced the skin from inside. Eve remembered his pain, his blood. She remembered setting each shattered finger. She remembered who broke them. She looked back up at his eyes. _He is still afraid._ She took the hand and laid it carefully, with the straight, healed fingers splayed out, over her heart, and then covered it with her own.

This was too much too soon. He immediately bowed his head to hide his face from her; the water cascaded over him making his hair a black curtain between her and his thoughts. _He feels safer if I can't see his eyes. So be it_. Evey pressed his hand against her and moved close enough to touch him body to body. Now she could hear him breathing under the sound of the water. Breathing deeply, irregularly. _What can I say to him?_ Steam rose up around her shoulders, as she ran her other hand along his side, comforting him, feeling the muscles under his skin as his chest rose and fell with the effort of breathing. He felt warm.

"Dominic," she said. He inhaled loudly, turned to the wall and rested his forehead against the tile. He put his hands on the wall too. There would be no more eye contact with him turned away from her like that. "Dominic. I came in here for you." She rested her head against his back and let the water rain down on her. "I need you. We need you. Say you will stay."

Evey did not look up while she waited for his response. She closed her eyes and gave him that privacy of darkness as the warm water washed over her. After a long while, she felt him turn around. A moment later both his strong hands were gently laid on her hips as he brought her in close to embrace her. She felt him bend down and then his rough cheek rubbed against her ear.

"Evey. Are you certain? Please, please do not…I can't…" he couldn't finish. But he didn't need to finish. Evey knew. She looked up at him, still hiding behind a curtain of dark hair. The drops from the shower rolled down his face and splashed down on her. She raised her hand and smoothed the hair to the side, holding it there against his cheek.

The dark eyes were full of pain, the black lashes clumped with warm water and steam. Evey shook her head side to side. _No more pain. No more_. _Not for either of us._ "I am certain,"

She waited. _His move, now._ He bent lower, took her chin between his finger and thumb and touched his lips to hers, lightly, just a feather touch, not even a real kiss. Then he pulled back to look at her; his detective eyes darted quickly over her face. Warm water rained down on both of them.

_He's searching my face for signs of distaste, revulsion, rejection_. Evey knew he would not find them. _Only truth._

"Oh, Eve." He put everything into the sound of her name.

"I am getting wrinkled. Time to get out of the water." She took his hand and led him through the doors. He turned the shower knob as he stepped out; the sudden quiet in the small room was filled with the sound of a baby crying. "Oh no," Evey smiled at him.

"Here." He handed her a fluffy towel, then wrapped another one around his waist. Evey wrapped hers around her body and tucked the corner in around her breasts. They both dripped quickly through his room into hers and to the crib by her bed. The sound of pitiful crying became angry and demanding as soon as she leaned over the edge and the baby saw her face. She laughed. "So he is hungry. That's how I can tell."

"You can tell?"

"Yes. He gets angry when the food is late. Here, will you pull that chair up for me?" Evey gestured to the rocker under the window. Dominic brought it to her as she lifted the baby from the crib and brought him to her shoulder. She sat down and dropped the towel from her breasts. The baby reached for her with tiny waving fists and she silenced him with a nipple. Dominic went down on his knees by her side, watching. He glanced up at her briefly, as if to ask for permission, then reached out to touch the baby's cheek with the back of his index finger. Evey looked down at both of them, full of love.

When Dominic looked up at her again his eyes were shining.


	22. Chapter 22

Allegro

Epilogue

Rated NC-17 . Really.

Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and DC, among others

* * *

Dominic heard footsteps in the hall and opened his eyes. He slept lightly now that there was a baby in the house. He lifted an ear from his pillow. Sometimes in the night the Inspector wandered about and needed to be guided back to his bed. But these footsteps were not Finch's and the baby was quiet. He turned his head so he could see through his open door into the well-lit hallway.

Eve. She was tiptoeing now that she was approaching his room. He expected her to go past his door to the stair, but she paused there in the doorway in her long nightgown, her hand on the frame. He frowned. _Something must be wrong._ "Evey?" He whispered, sitting up and pushing the blankets off his chest.

"Oh, Dominic!" There were tears in her voice. She came in and climbed in beside him, lifting the blankets and sliding between the sheets. She lay her head on his other pillow and reached for him. He slid back down under the blankets and scooted closer to her so she could put her arms around his neck. They lay their on their sides, face to face.

"What's wrong, Eve?" He asked her.

"Oh...I had a dream...again."

"The same one?"

She nodded and pulled herself closer until she was pressed against him. He wished he had worn his pajamas to bed. He smoothed her hair away from her cheek. "The dreams will go away after a while. They always do."

"I don't want them to go away. He comes to me. I can hold him. Then I wake up and he is gone. It's the waking up that hurts...not the dream."

"I understand." And he did. "After my Da died, I dreamed about him too. I couldn't tell Mum, though, she would cry for hours if I even mentioned him." He kissed her forehead. "It hurts. I know."

"Yes." He heard her sniff, "I hope for the dreams and I dread them at the same time."

"Right." He pulled her to him so he could hug her. She curled her arms across her breasts and cuddled close to him, tucked under his chin. "I remember that too," he murmured.

"What...what did you do?" She brought her knees up and put her cold feet between his calves.

"Nothing," He rubbed her back. "I slept, I dreamed. I kept quiet when I heard my Mum crying in her bed."

"Did she cry a long time?"

"Almost a year."

"And then what happened?"

"She smiled one day when I came home from school."

"And?"

"It had been a long time since she smiled at me, I was shocked, frankly. But she smiled more after that." He nestled his face into her hair. _Violets. Evey smells of violets._

Evey wiggled closer to him. "Edmond makes me smile. You make me smile. And the Inspector."

"It helps to have loved ones around."

"Yes." Her voice sounded thoughtful. She was calm now. He pressed more of her hair to his face and inhaled, closing his eyes. _This is the scent that lingers after she is gone_. She moved again beside him and he felt her little hand on his side, stroking him from his shoulders to his hip. "You are around."

"Yes. I am."

"Thank you so much."

"You don't have to thank me for loving you, Eve." He squeezed her gently to emphasize his point. He smiled to himself in the dark. "It's a thankless job," he teased.

She laughed softly and pinched him below his ribs. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make light of what I have done to you."

"You have done nothing and everything to me." He lifted himself on one elbow and stared down at her on his pillow. "Before I met you, I was hardly alive, Evey. I was dead and I didn't even know it. I should have suspected, but the work and the time went by day to day and I let it fill me up because I didn't know there was anything else. Even my women were like tasks to me. 'Call her, buy her things, take her to dinner, tell her the dress makes her look thin, listen to her babble on about the telly'. That was my whole life, Evey. I dealt with death and misery at work, I would come home and feel like death. I was miserable, and I thought that was normal. I thought that was life."

"And when you met me? The first time was terrible, Dom. How can you forget that? You were so hurt, so beat up, so much pain. You opened your eyes and saw my face above you. I was your tormentor. You don't remember the look in your eyes. I do." Her voice thickened again with the memory and he was sorry he made her think of that day.

"Don't cry, Evey, don't cry." He bent over her face and kissed her cheek, tugged at her hair. "You were not my tormentor. Please. Don't cry about that. That's over. I am healed, and a better man than I was then."

She did smile, then, through the tears. "You are a good man. Someone once told me that. But now I know it first-hand." She sighed.

He kissed her head, breathing in the violets. "You are everything to me, Eve. You and Edmond."

She sniffed, her voice heavy with tears. "I do love you, Dominic. Will you believe me?" She moved her hand behind his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and pressed her lips to his jaw.

He didn't answer. She had never kissed him before. He blinked. She reached under the blankets and brought out his right hand. She pulled his knuckles to her lips and kissed them too. He whispered to her, "Eve. What are you doing?" He felt himself stiffen beneath the sheets and moved his hips away so she would not feel his response to her lips on his body.

"I love you."

"No. You don't. You are just sad. You are vulnerable, Eve. Please. Stop." He rolled away, tried to get out of the bed before it became impossible to hide his erection.

She rose up and pinned him, her hands on his shoulders, driving him into the pillows and leaned over him. "Don't get up. I want you to stay."

"I can't," he tried to say more, but one hand strayed from his chest, moved lower and collected him in her fingers.

"Your body says you can," she smiled. Dominic glanced through the open door into the hall. Evey caught his meaning for she said, "I checked on Eric. He is fast asleep. So is Edmond." She squeezed him gently and he responded with a soft groan and pulled his knees up.

"Oh, God, Evey. Are you sure you want to do this?"

She answered him by bending low and bringing her lips to his, her hand stroking him gently under the covers with the same rhythm she used on his mouth. He responded. He moved his mouth on hers; his hands encircled her small body and dragged her down harder on his lips. He kissed her all the kisses he had been imagining, all the kisses he had wanted for a year. He kissed her with all of his love, and then when her lips could no longer contain the magnitude of his love he kissed her jaw and her throat and moved to her neck and her ear until she was breathing hard and low. Her hand had stopped touching him, she took her face away from his lips and climbed over him, straddled his waist, hiking her nightgown up over her thighs.

He could barely speak. "Oh, no. I don't have anything. There was no need...I..."

"We don't need anything." She wiggled a little, getting comfortable, giving him a moment to get used to the change in position and her imminent intent. "I am under orders to provide a sibling or two for Edmond." She raised herself up just high enough to bring herself down on him slowly.

Dominic closed his eyes, breathing one last lungful of air before all thoughts centered on the warmth she was generating in the middle of his body. "Oh..." he sighed, moving his back and hips against the soft sheets, feeling their bond tighten. He swelled larger inside her as his body responded to the pleasure of her touch. She moved just a little, testing him, and the motion sent waves of electric pleasures from his erection to his toes. He lifted his hips to meet her, to feel that wave again, but she stopped him by squeezing her knees together against his ribs.

"Not so fast. I've just gotten here..." She bent over his chest and kissed him, circling one of his nipples with a slender finger. "I am loving you, Dom. You lie there."

"Ahh..." he had trouble speaking, "It's been a while since I...I last longer the second time..." Her hand had stroked him to this point, and now her velvety wetness threatened to make it end too soon.

"The second time? The same night?" She licked a finger and brushed the moistened tip over his nipple until he groaned and lifted himself against her again. "Hmm...I very much like that idea...then perhaps I shall have mercy." There was nothing merciful in her position. Her warm folds stroked him inside her until the tip of his erection, which pressed firmly against the inner confines of her body, hardened further and tortured him with the need to rock her back and forth.

"Eve..." His hips thrust up against her, again and again. He reached for her thighs, held her tightly as he lifted her with powerful spasms of pleasure, each forceful thrust brought him incrementally closer to release. He heard himself panting, he felt the familiar cresting that signaled a climax. Then she stopped him, squeezing her legs together, gripping him again, leaning forward and grasping his shoulders. He moaned long and loud enough for her to say, "Shhhhh...Not yet, not yet." His hips reached up for her, but she rose up with them, denying him the stroke. "I am feeling you, Dom. I haven't really felt you until now. Go slowly...let me experience this closeness, this intimacy. Breathe."

He pressed his head back into the pillow trying to obey her. His long breaths were uneven and loud. He closed his eyes to remove the silhouette of her breasts and shoulders from his sight. He gripped her thighs with the effort. She praised him, "Good, good, calm down..." she soothed, though the center of his body was anything but quiet. He remained poised on the edge of climax, inside he was pulsing with raw need to crush her against him and feel that stab of delight as he shot frothy fluids into her welcoming body. He grit his teeth, imagining it. He had been imagining it for months, the images were full and ripe. Closing his eyes did nothing to ease the fierce need to grind her to him. She leaned over him slowly, again, and moved just enough to keep him there on the edge. He felt her breath on his cheek as she nibbled softy at the corner of his mouth. "It's okay... soon, soon," she murmured, pressing her hips down once to prime him.

"Evey..." he breathed, "You are killing me...let me go..." he punctuated his words with another thrust upward, which she anticipated again by following him. He groaned again, pulled his knees up, ready. The next thrust she would not be able to negate. Two...three more and he would feel it. He could almost taste the searing pleasure. Anticipating it was too much.

He moved his hands from her thighs to her hips and ground her into him, she put her hands on his wrists. "Very well, then. Come. You will owe me a 'second time'"

He did not answer her but arched his back, planted his feet on the sheets and thrust up into her once, twice, three times, rocking her hips on his until with one great gasping spasm he felt himself burst. His shoulders pressed into the pillow and he could not stay quiet. "Uhhnnghh..." he breathed as he felt hot spurts fill her.

"Ahh...I love that noise men make." Her light laughter was almost lost among the sound of his rasping breaths,

"Eve...be still...ah..." He held her bum firmly against him, tried to keep her from moving.

"One minute ago you were begging me to move," she beamed.

"That's how...it...works...ah...stop..." he begged as she teased him by rolling her hips. "Stop..." She held still while he caught his breath.

* * *

Evey smiled down on him, watching his face contort and relax from a grimace to a sweet sleepy smile. _I have not seen a man's face as he made love to me. Not for a very very long time._ She leaned forward carefully. "Can I move now?"

"Yes...yes...sorry, Evey. You were about to send me through the roof." He smiled the most beautiful smile, his teeth were even and white. She had never noticed what a delightful smile he had. _He has not smiled enough_.

She laughed again, separating herself slowly, gently allowing him to fall away from the slick wetness inside her. She pulled the blankets up to cover him and lay beside him, watching his face in the light from the hallway as he recovered. "I wanted to make love to you last week," she said. "I thought about it for days."

He turned on his side to face her, still grinning, his eyes shining with love. Eve smiled back at him. He asked her, "What made you decide?"

"Oh. I was feeling a little, well...for the first time in a long time, I was feeling," she lowered her eyes shyly. She didn't know how to express that longing for a touch, a caress. Every day she held her baby, every day she touched Eric's hands, his face. But she never touched Dominic. And he never touched her. Last week she had thought about that in a sudden flash while washing her teacups. The one person in her life ready and willing to give her that comfort was deliberately keeping himself distant. Evey remembered leaning against the counter, thinking of it. He had not touched her since that afternoon in the shower. _Months ago._ _How to answer_? She smiled at him again. "I woke up one day and wanted you. It is just that simple."

"Oh Eve," he shifted on his pillow and gathered her to his chest, his arms around her shoulders. "I waited for you."

"You did. I can't tell you how important that is to me."

"I knew. I knew I would have to wait." He touched his lips to her hair. "I love you so much, Evey."

She brought her hands up to cup his face, feeling the rough bristles of his stubble, so strange to her fingers. "I didn't know I could love you, Dom."

"And can you?"

She nodded and stretched on her pillow to kiss him. "I can, and I have for a long time, please believe me."

He nodded. "I hoped."

"We need each other," she agreed, "and Eric, too."

"He lost a son. I lost a father," Dominic murmured.

"Yes, and I lost everyone," she whispered, thinking of her father, and her mother. Her brother. V.

"Oh, Evey. I didn't mean to remind you. I'm sorry." He hugged her closer.

"No, no. Don't be sorry." She rose on her elbows and leaned over him so she could kiss him on his eyelids, one then the other. She hovered, poised over his face, looking into his eyes. "I only mean that makes you so valuable to me. You and Edmond and Eric."


End file.
